Unfinished Business
by Richard Banker
Summary: This is a Bad Girls - Judge John Deed crossover. This is the sequel to Sisters Under The Skin. Helen/Nikki, George/OFC, Karen/OFC.
1. Chapter 1

Scene OneShe was floating on fluffy white clouds and was bathed all over by the brilliant light from above. The sun was so intense yet it didn't hurt her eyes or damage her in any way. She could take its most searching scrutiny and exposure, yet it didn't embarrass her. Her whole existence felt so pure and she was unbound by any constrictions that might hold her down. Her skin was naked and she felt so good about herself. Whatever this mysterious space that contained her felt like heaven and she felt no need to question its existence or hers. She murmured to herself that this was the first day in her life that she was going to live. The whole of her senses were alive as they never had been before. There wasn't the normal tiredness brought on by an excess of work, but the very special dreamy sensations from an excess of pleasurable feelings. She felt as though if she was being taken out of her ordinary cares and she had all the time in the world to spare. She had the feeling that this was where she belonged. Her interior world too was softly illuminated and she felt languorous, with no need to strive and struggle, no need to put anyone down with her patented brand of sarcasm. At last, she opened one eyelid lazily and a wide smile spread across her face as she saw the peacefully sleeping beauty of the woman whose head lay on the other pillow. Her eyelashes lay on her cheeks, her straight nose reminded her of her caring honesty and her long dark hair flowed naturally down the side of her face and onto her naked shoulders. She sighed blissfully to herself that everything that she thought had happened last night wasn't some sort of tantalizing dream that belonged to the formless fantasies of nighttime, only to dissolve away in the harsh light of the day. They really had tasted and caressed each other and had really made love all night long. Normally, she would have snapped wide-awake and be up in a flash and her mind would start ticking over and she would start to planning her day out, but she pushed away this idea as laughably inappropriate. That would be indecent compared with the idyllic idea of lying in bed with her lover. Her fingers delicately extended themselves and tenderly smoothed down a lock of hair out of Alice's eye, to gently lay her hand on her soft skin and snuggle next to her. She didn't want to disturb her lover's sleep, as she looked so calm and peaceful. It crossed her mind that she had come a long way without noticing it as such tender consideration was at odds with the old selfish, narcissistic woman she had once been.George's lips silently vowed to herself, that this day was the first day of her new life. Right now, she was content to lie there alongside her lover and bathe in the sunlight that streamed through her bedroom and breathe in her perfume. She was deliciously tired and the mixture of sensations wove a sense of enchantment on the scene. At last, Alice stretched out and her eyes flickered open."Morning, darling," George murmured as she softly kissed the other woman's cheek. "Morning, babes. If I had to choose between you waking me up and my alarm clock, I think I know which I'd choose," Alice said playfully, sighing in blissful ecstacy as a smile parted her lips before her arm reached over to draw George close to her." I've never been so happy in all my life."

Their surroundings felt like one big playful grin of sheer satisfaction overlaid by sleepy memories of their night of sexual pleasure. It crossed both women's minds that they wanted to know more about each other.

"Did you really say last night that that you've never slept with a woman. I can't believe it or else I'm really lucky," Alice murmured in total joy and wonder.

"Believe it or not, it's never crossed my mind until recently," mused George, a faraway look in her eyes, while Alice listened attentively." It was the combination of me dumping that fearful ex of mine and being in an unusually self-questioning frame of mind, as well as taking on Sally Anne's case. I interviewed Sally Anne and her partner Trisha and it struck me how right they looked together and how wrong I've always been with my ex partners… even John. It all went round and round in the back of my mind. After the court case, I felt that I was in the mood to party and Trisha's club sounded vaguely …alluring, a case of forbidden fruit. I knew that Claire Walker came along out of politeness but I really wanted to come, but I didn't know why. As soon as I saw you, something in me really connected and I discovered just why I came."

A warm smile spread across Alice's face and the sunlight caused her eyes to sparkle like jewels. She could listen to George talk all day. She wanted to know so much about her and to share her own deepest corners of her own mind with this remarkable woman who she sensed embodied both strength and sympathy. Everything seemed so right and balanced between the two women.

"There's so much I want to know about such a femme fatale as you, darling. It's not that very sexy accent of yours…though it helps but I like what I know of you already."

George was touched by Alice's sensitivity. Her word 'like' wasn't some anaemic polite meaningless word, but was Alice's way of relating to her as a human being and not just as an object of desire. Her mind cleared itself rapidly and she rattled away her history.

"As you might gather, I come from a frightfully conventional background. I was brought up in a certain way, so it isn't easy to question it especially if I'm the daughter of a judge. I was rebellious and willful in certain ways, but within limits. I was brought up both to succeed in my professional and also to make a suitable marriage. Me being me, I had to choose the most disreputable man, yet rising star of the legal profession. After my marriage went pear shaped, I hooked up with that dreadful politician, urggh," George shuddered at the memory." I must have been mad."

"Everyone makes their own choice in life," Alice said with a studiously formal tone of voice.

"Darling, you don't have to feel insecure and wonder if all this is some temporary aberration and I'm going to go back to men. I now know very well what I want out of life. There might be an advantage to both of us in me facing up to my sexuality now than earlier in my life. You might have put me down as a hard, unfeeling woman. Many have in the past."

"I can't deny it crossed my mind," the dark haired woman admitted shamefacedly." What I can't figure out is how you've made such a dramatic switch. It's unheard of...though there's a first time for anything."

"You mean every woman you've ever known has found it a battle to own up to who they really are." George softly answered with a nod of appreciation at this woman's intelligence. Last night Alice had been blown away by this blond woman's incredible and uninhibited sensuality in all the arts of lovemaking and this revelation and this demonstration of gentle concern for her melted her heart.

"I'm really talking about myself as much as anyone." "Tell me about it, darling. I so want to know all there is to know about you." "I'm in my mid thirties now so I'm talking about a different time when women started to really step out in life. I was really young when I made my choice. My parents were normal, average, wondering about their daughter's choice of friends, would she do well in her exams, casting a close eye on prospective boyfriends. Of course, I was the apple of their eye…sleepovers with 'friends' was an easy matter. Getting to know who you are is a job and a half when you're in your teens. Add in feelings of guilt of living a lie to your parents and your need to live your own life your way and you have a whole lot of confusion. It took a lot of time for them to accept me, who I was and that I was supposedly going to live happily after with Becky." George felt the sudden chill in her bones as she heard Alice's voice trailing to an uncertain stop. It foretold bad news. "Darling, it sound as if what you're going to say sounds painful. You don't have to tell me, you know," the blond haired woman said tenderly. "George… if we're going to know each other better, it's better that you know," Alice answered as if she were driving herself forward. "Becky was one of those women who was the life and soul of the party while I was quieter then than I am now. We met each other's needs and I was captivated and drawn into her world. I really cared for her and that was half the trouble. I didn't see that I was being drawn into a relationship with an attractive woman with a clinical bipolar condition….. It was like being on an emotional roller-coaster, sad and empty when she shut herself emotionally from me… and was frightening, when she got into one of her rages. Of course, my occupation didn't help….." "What's that, Alice?" "A social worker. That says everything about me. I've been forever sorting out everyone else's problems and never my own," Alice continued in short, stark sentences to cut off the pain she felt. "For a long time, I tried to work out that if only I could find the key to her, she could be made better. Finally, Nikki saw what was going on and finally got through to me. She explained that I had a right to consider what my own needs were and that I had a right to them. It showed me that I deserved more out of the relationship than I was getting. Telling Becky that I was getting out of the relationship and breaking free was the hardest thing I ever did. I had to pretend when I broke up with her that I wasn't feeling what came most natural to me. A detached part of me saw how cleverly she ran a guilt trip on me, all her tears and finally all her rages, when that didn't work, I was at odds with my own reluctance to appear to be giving up on her." "You poor thing," said George, her words dripping with sympathy. "I swear I would treat you properly." Her arms slid round Alice automatically and hugged the tenseness out of her. George could tell that her lover was reliving her nightmare and only came out of it thanks to her physical reassurance. "Is that a would or will? You're talking about our future." Alice asked with a half smile. "Definitely a will. Do you seriously think that I'd let you go without a struggle? You must know my reputation by now." Alice had been lying on her back as she had been telling George about her past, hearing her lover's disembodied voice gently steer their conversation along. Now her sensuous tones brought her back to the present pleasures and Alice most definitely wanted a part of it. Alice turned to recline on her side, propping her head up on her arm. She took a good look at her lover's shapely curves and the way her blond hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face. Even first thing in the morning, there was an unmistakable elegance about her. Alice could hardly believe her luck that, without thinking about it, she had happened on a very special lady with her own brand of strength and sympathy. She smiled in satisfaction at the wonderful calm and serenity that surrounded them both. She had never thought such a thing was possible. She was only too aware that George had that attractively unashamed delight in what lay before her eyes and marvelled how she seemed free of any externally imposed ideas of how she should think or feel or be.They lay together on George's large double bed, on the shiny white sheets and white fluffed up pillows, the quilt being untidily crumpled around them. Both were slightly overawed at what they were starting to know about each other, how accurate their instincts had been to pick each other out from the crowds on the dance floor, not helped by the flashing colours and subdued lighting. They could both sense a shared future beginning to define itself before their eyes. The sunlight shone in through the windows and this, and the moment of peace and calmness, was absolutely real to them both. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Scene Two **

"You must be parched, darling. Do you fancy a cup of tea or coffee?" George charmingly asked at last in her best drawing room manner.

"I would love a cup of coffee to wake me up a bit," sighed Alice. Her concentration was starting to fade after their lack of sleep last night.

George slid out of bed and wrapped a thin negligee round herself as a token concession to modesty, while displaying enough of her physical charms to the dark haired woman. Alice lay back in a blissful state of sleepy contentment. She had raised the past miseries and strains in her life from their unquiet graves, but her present state of mind promptly banished them to where they belonged. That was then, this is today. She was content to listen to the sounds of clinking chinaware as George busied herself in the kitchen. She could hear her lover softly singing to herself and although she couldn't see her lover, she knew she was there.

"Coming, darling," George called as she brought through a tray with two finely carved bone china cups and saucers. Her negligee made an even more transparent attempt to cover herself up and she smiled saucily as she put the tray down on a side table. She carelessly flung aside her garment on the bed and slid back into bed next to Alice.

"We'll have an early morning drink first, Alice and then, who knows?"

By now, Alice had thoroughly woken up, her desires starting to grow inside her. Instinct told her that her lover was only mildly teasing her and would deliver at least as much as she promised.

"I think I know, but in the meantime… I wouldn't mind the traditional English breakfast," she said lightheartedly, accepting the coffee that was offered.

"Hardly that," said George with a wicked grin." A full stomach is hardly suitable for what I have in store for you."

She took a sip, greatly pleased that it was freshly ground coffee, with a creamy tinge to it, that was certain to drive the lingering cobwebs from her mind. They laid up in bed , side by side and George's persistent half smile showed her awareness, that her dark haired lover's attention was not wholly directed to her cup of coffee and that George's visual delights was part of the treat.

Both women were highly aware of the feelings of desire, rising up inside themselves.

Surprisingly enough, when George turned to kiss her lover after placing the cups and saucers on the side, her kisses were soft and delicate and the touch of her lover was soft and gentle. She was embracing the woman who she was beginning to know so well and physical gratification was only part of the picture. Their tender lovemaking, felt divorced from time and petty duties as if they were in a slow moving dream.

*********

"So how did you get to know about Chix, Alice?" George asked out of curiosity, as they finally lay there satiated. She was curious to hear more of that magical world that she'd stepped into only the other evening. It had that magnetic power of abolishing anything that had happened before in her life or at the very least, shifting it away to a different dimension that was aslant from her present.

"I knew Nikki and Trisha even before they had set up Chix. When they eventually got Chix together, it became the place to go to, where one felt comfortable…."

"Curiously enough, I hadn't a clue about what I was letting myself in for… but it felt like home, the second I set foot in the place," added George thoughtfully.

"You can understand now, how much a lesbian would want the one place where she can be herself. You'll come across that one as you go about your ordinary life anyway."

"I'll take notice of what you say," came George's dry response without a hint of irony.

"You couldn't help, going around the 'lesbian scene' without becoming aware of them. Nikki is an extraordinarily compassionate woman and in love with life in all its forms while Trisha is the quiet and organized one. Their lives were going smoothly, no cloud on the horizon…until that dreadful day when that animal tried to rape Trisha. The word ran round the lesbian community like wildfire. Everyone was in a state of total shock and disbelief. I mean, everyone knew that Nikki had a bit of a temper, if some idiot pushed her too far, but a bad temper is a million miles away from killing someone. I can tell you that everyone who went to Chix knew what that man was like. He gave off bad vibrations as soon as he came into the club, but nobody thought he would go that far."

"Why's that?"

"I suppose that ingrained feeling that the police couldn't be that bent," Alice answered with a shaky laugh at her naïve absurdity." Once everyone woke up to what had happened, we were outraged at the way the trial progressed. It was more of a mediaeval witch-hunt. It was one of those horrible moments in my life, watching the trial from the visitor's gallery. I felt so helpless to do anything…..Nikki didn't want anyone to visit her even though I desperately wanted to. I heard through the grapevine that she and Trisha had split up. When she got her freedom, I was at 'Chix' when Helen came into the club. You could sense the spark jump between them. I found it easy to accept Helen as Nikki's new partner as I made friends with Helen straightaway. They look so good together……I guess that after all these years, there is still enough of the romantic in me."

George's smile started to spread wide as automatic instinct prompted her to scoff at such naivety until her conscious thoughts cut in. What was she laughing at? Since when did being hard and cynical do her any good? Hadn't it kept her away from what she might love and sentence her to be with people that at heart, didn't do her spiritual insides any good? Hadn't those fleeting moments of tenderness in the past pointed her way to another way of living and wasn't her lover with her right now, that embodiment?

"A penny for your thoughts, George."

"You can have them for free. I was just thinking of all the years that I've wasted," came the response.

"How do you mean, sweetheart?"

George felt a few tears start to trickle from her eyes and automatic gesture made her impatiently sweep them away. She was conscious that Alice's soft, sharp eyes hadn't missed anything. It made her feel both embarrassed and relieved at the same time. She had never placed herself under such close scrutiny.

"Obviously, why in hell did I even look in the direction of that sad, inadequate man, that stuffed shirt of a politician? It says something about me, mostly bad. Yet I actually lived with him, AND entertained his shallow heartless friends AND acted as the government's legal fixer for cases. I was completely immoral…I must have been out of my mind." George replied in tremulous tones, shaking her head in disbelief. "At least you haven't anything to reproach yourself with. You fell in love with a woman who didn't meet your needs but you tried.

"Hey, honey, put your head on my shoulder," Alice's soft, incredibly warm voice murmured.

George laid down next to her lover and buried her head in that mass of dark hair as Alice's lips brushed her forehead, she felt her arms wrap themselves round her and press her close. From out of nowhere, she let her sobs rack her body as all the suppressed emotions came pouring out, everything she had tried to suppress behind that bright, glassy, sophisticated persona that she had constructed. She knew all to well that she had said and done a lot of things that she now regretted. At the back of the outpourings of feelings, she could feel those delicate fingers stroke her back and her lover's voice whispering soothing sounds into her ears….'it's all right, darling, it's all right…' until she gradually swam her way through the riptides of emotions into calmer waters. She raised her head and saw with huge relief that Alice had been with her all along.

" I swear to God that I've not cried for a very long time. Why on earth should I cry when I'm so happy?"

"Perhaps… you've opened yourself up to feelings that you've not let yourself feel? It's so easy to tell yourself that you're too busy. It's easily done."

George bit her lip and then nodded emphatically. That was precisely what she'd done in surrounding herself with rituals that didn't really mean anything, in organizing a social life. Since she had lived on her own and broken free of her ex's political cronies, she had thrown herself into her work and simplified her life outside it. She had never remotely chosen the path she had set herself, but now she was here. While the tears still trickled down her face, she didn't feel so desolate as her past had come back to haunt her. She had felt deeply for Alice's wasted love, but at least her feelings were genuine.

"I want to be different. I am different from who I used to be. I need to work out who I want to be," exclaimed George, her thoughts and feelings whirling out of control.

"I can see that everything is all new to you but trust to your instincts. They won't let you down."

"My instincts used to be all wrong. I was instinctively hard and selfish. If you'd met me, say, six months ago, you wouldn't have liked me."

"So I didn't meet you then and you've changed. I'm in love with the Georgia Channing of here and now. Don't forget, I've had other lovers besides Becky… so I feel sure in my mind that this is no blind infatuation."

The certainty behind those words finally brought the blond haired woman back to some sense of certainty. Alice was right. The here and now was lying in her soft bed, that had been magically transformed by her lover who embraced her. She kissed Alice's neck tenderly and gradually slid her way down to Alice's breasts where she wrapped her arms round her lover. The taller woman felt an incredible surge of loving protectiveness for this woman who she clutched to her heart in more ways than one. In turn, George felt that blissful sense of completeness as they lay together and planted soft kisses on the skin that she lay on. This high level of emotional intensity felt like a cousin to their rapacious sexual desires of the night before.

"It's not like me to want to feel protected. Oh yes, I read the usual Barbara Cartland novels when I was in my teens… but I never took them seriously," laughed George gently at last.

"What if the tall dark stranger was a woman instead of a man?" Alice murmured teasingly.

"Then that makes them right. I might start rereading them with that mental translation, and think of you all the time."

George felt Alice's soft laughter ripple through her body. There wasn't an ounce of dissimulation in this woman, she marvelled. What she said was transparently true.

"What I still can't understand is why I…why I feel as if I'm a stranger to my past life as if I'm reading a book written about another person. I must have gained some shallow satisfaction from being Queen Bee amongst all those men, the narcissistic feeling of being the centre of attention however bad the cause."

Alice hung in there. It was important for this woman to figure out who she was.

"But do you need that any more?" came that soft sympathetic question.

"You're right, I don't," George smiled through the tears in her eyes. "I'm free of all that."

"So you need something different instead?"

"Mm…you for a start," George roundly declared kissing Alice full on her lips. "It goes further than rewriting my sexuality. I feel that I'm rewriting the ideas on how to live my life, what I'm going to do for my future, how to behave, what to say, what not to say. The only certainty in my life right now…….is you."

"So you want to see more of me," murmured Alice softly in an understated fashion.

"But of course, darling if you want the same," George pronounced very firmly before continuing in more hesitant tones. "I know what I want… but I haven't the faintest idea of what it means to date you or live with you or whatever. It's all very new to me. I feel as if I was sixteen and all fingers and thumbs. To tell you the truth, I don't know what to expect. I'll have to guess my way through whatever we've to face together."

"Your guesses are good enough for me, babes," Alice articulated in a jesting and sensuous tone of voice. "I still think you must have been a lesbian in a past existence. All I know is that I can't get enough of you."

Both women heaved a sigh of audible relief. They had been skirting round the topic and had resolved it together. One mind wouldn't have been enough.

This moment had quietly sealed an important moment in history that was waiting to be written. Both women felt dizzy with excitement of what lay ahead of them. The ghosts from both their pasts could be laid to rest.

As the morning wore on, George started to feel more and more uncomfortable. She delighted in lying in bed with her lover but she was being nagged by the thought that she really needed a shower. It was one of those compulsions that made herself feel civilized and ready to face the day.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, Alice darling but I really need to take a quick shower right now. It's one of those compulsive habits of mine."

"That's perfectly natural, darling…but you're surely not thinking of taking it on your own? It might be fun together." Alice said in her smokiest, sultriest tones.

George's face split itself into a wide smile. She wondered why it had never crossed her mind before. She must be unusually slow on the uptake not to have worked that out.

"Then I'll lead the way, darling," George said, her voice arching in her most seductive fashion.

Desires started to flow through Alice as the delicious spectacle of the rear view of George's nicely rounded body, her shapely legs and her shoulder length blond untamed hair. Both women scampered in the direction of the shower, giggling like schoolgirls, George, hurriedly snatching the nearest towels to hand. Soon, warm water was sluicing down their bodies and George marvelled how her lover's presence transformed the mundane cubicle into somewhere special.

George lay back against the shower wall frantically kissing her lover in a state of delirious joy, while Alice's expert touch, massaged her breasts. Both women's breathing were ragged, as they ardently vocalized their desires for each other, in ways that they knew were physically honest. As Alice's fingers slid down and caressed the other woman's stomach, George's desires were racing away in a state of delirious joy.She was in the seventh heaven when her lover's fingers finally slid in smoothly and penetrated her. Alice writhed with ecstacy as she coaxed her blond haired lover to a climax. In turn, feelings of tenderness ran through the taller woman that George could give of herself so freely.

"You are so amazing, darling. Now it's my turn to pleasure you."

George's husky out of breath voice sent shivers through Alice, even more so, when her lover's lips and tongue worked their way down to her breast caressing her hardening nipples. If this was an indication of her life as scarily unpredictable, George thought, then she relished swimming boldly and eagerly into the full flow of her unknown future. She would not live her life in any other way for all the money in Whitehall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Scene Three**

The Thursday morning after the trial was a peculiar one for Nikki and Helen in contrast with George and Alice's timeless idyll. They had finally drifted off to sleep and didn't wake till half past ten the next day. A morning off work was neither one thing nor the other, a compromise between the two women's natural desire to rest after the intensity of yesterday's experience and their ingrained work ethic. It meant that sooner or later they would have to stagger off to work. "Christ, it's half past ten," Nikki called out as one eye focused on the alarm clock opposite her. Her initial burst of energy to jump out of bed and to head for the shower petered out with the knowledge that they both had the morning off and her sheer lack of energy. "What of it?" Helen's voice mumbled indistinctly into the pillow. "I thought we'd at least spend the morning chilling out before we headed off to work. To my mind, chilling out means being awake."

"Relax babes," muttered a more distinct Scottish brogue against the bare skin on Nikki's back." We went out partying last night into the small hours… and not content with that, we make love into the even smaller hours, or is it numerically right to say the bigger hours…Not content with that, you expect us to wake up as normal. Why can't we crash out until we're good and ready to wake up? We're not miracle workers," laughed Helen softly.

"Don't say you're getting old, my darling and you can't burn the candle at both ends any more," teased Nikki.

"After my time at Larkhall, I deserve to take it easy for a long, long while. I've been there, done it, and worn the bloody T-shirt. I know well enough that if you burn a candle at both ends, you get your bloody fingers burnt, Ms Perpetual Party Woman," Helen retorted warmly, swatting the back of Nikki's head with a handy pillow.

"OK, OK, you've made your point. Now let's make peace like we normally do," Nikki pleaded, twisting round in bed to turn to face Helen and ready to take her in her arms. She loved those moments waking up when she could lie on her pillow, halfway between sleep and being wide awake and look at Helen. Subconsciously, she realized that it came from too many months, when all she woke up to was the impossibly narrow and uncomfortable bunk after the many nighttimes of fantasizing over Helen and the dismal comedown in the morning. Those large green eyes of hers, straight determined nose and full lips not to say that accent of hers did things to her.

"I can't believe that everything that happened yesterday really did happen," murmured Nikki at last. "You don't normally get so many happy endings in the one movie reel, all the dragons slain and one hell of a celebration party."

"George had some party all right. She was a total revelation. I didn't think that she….." Helen started to say when the taller woman interrupted her with a mischievous grin.

"You mean that she didn't look like a lesbian. And since when do either you or George look like a typical lesbian, Ms Stewart?"

"All right, all right, Ms Smart Arse. All the same, I really felt for her with her world opening up for her. I don't know Alice as long as you do, but it struck me how really well they went together."

"I came across women from her sort of background at boarding school," said Nikki reflectively." My background is pretty well to do as you know, but there were women there who definitely 'outposhed' me. Some of them must have become the average empty-headed Sloan Ranger but George is different, unique. She has that real individualistic 'don't give a shit' attitude that might have once made her unbearable but she's now using for the good. All that's a million miles away from the Mrs. Middle England's of the world who are scared to death of what neighbours think of them – except Barbara of course."

"Go on, Nikki. I'm interested," murmured Helen, fascinated by the depth and subtleties of Nikki's observations. The dark haired woman had paused for reflection, smiling fondly at the memory of Barbara, that formidable and moral exemplar of the Church Militant.

"It's the individualist, self directed people of integrity who give me hope for the future. I used to think that it was a woman thing or a gay thing but not any more. I've learnt that much in recent months. Take John for instance. As for George, she's totally fearless and goes further than I'd dare to go. I couldn't believe a respectable female barrister coming first time to a lesbian club, would sweep Alice off her feet. Normally, her brand of quiet confidence would make some L plate lesbian think twice before chatting her up."

"I know. It quite put me to shame. There I was, dithering about whether I really wanted to see that ex of mine measured up for his wedding suit and later on, should I pluck up courage to head into this scary lesbian underworld. I just admire George so much," Helen commented wryly.

"And to think I once called them 'pricks in wigs," admitted Nikki shamefacedly.

"What?" Helen asked loudly, her mouth dropping a mile in astonishment. "After seeing John, Jo and George in action, don't you think you've missed the mark by a mile or so."

"That was ages ago after our first night together when you backed off from me and you told me my appeal was turned down. The mood I was in, you must admit, I had reason not to be exactly ecstatic about the legal system. I felt I had good reason to badmouth them when I sounded off to Barbara. Don't forget, I come across them now indirectly in my job and they are a mixed bag. We've been lucky to deal with the best of the lot that I once never knew could possibly exist."

"Hey take it easy, babes. I was just winding you up," laughed Helen.

"In which case, let's have a nice early morning cuddle and drop the subject. We both know what we mean," Nikki pleaded, a misleadingly innocent expression on her face.

The two women slipped naturally into each other's arms. They both delighted on the feel of each other's bodily contact, the feel of fingers smoothing their way through each other's hair. This was a kind of blissful half weekend as the sunlight shone through their windows.

"So what are you going to do for the rest of the day, sweetheart," murmured Helen at last.

"I really feel too tired to go to work today, but I can't let the guys down. I had yesterday off work as well. My boss is on my back to get my piece of research done and I'm running short of time."

"I've not known you being that amenable to someone in authority cracking the whip."

"We're all part of a team, doing something that has purpose and reason," explained Nikki patiently." If someone takes the trouble to do that, I'll work my arse off. Besides, he's a good guy and I know the pressures, he is under to get research done that will help out some poor unfortunate prisoner. The guy's as straight as they come, I mean honest kind of straight, and he treats me decently. He passed my ultimate test when I told him I was a lesbian, by offering his best wishes, to you. I knew at once, he was for real and that they stuck my neck out in taking me on. I just want to prove that they had good reason to have faith in me. That means a lot."

"What you say makes perfect sense to me."

"It's strange, how I've come to know some good guys over the years. First, there's Dominic and then Tony at my last job and now I've got the luck to have Paul Armstrong as my boss."

"You've come a long way this past year, Nikki. I'm really proud of you," Helen's voice, slightly shaking with emotion sounded richly in Nikki's ear. In return, Nikki's arms squeezed her lover passionately. The taller woman knew, that some personality quirk in her, felt uncomfortable in accepting meaningless praise but she knew how high Helen's own standards were. Helen was talking as much from the head as from the heart. They lay there in a state of perfect paradise until Nikki's very husky voice finally gave reply.

"You have as well. I guess I've not really come across a woman who's gone right through the sexual spectrum. Anyone who came to Chix was either gay or just bi curious seeing us as some kind of experiment. You are for real, sweetheart."

This was a moment of high emotion for both women as they lay together peacefully. This was as much, lovemaking, as its more physical expression and for a while, that sometimes, cursed sense of time passing was put on hold.

******

"I guess we have to get going," Nikki called out, applying her makeup and dressed in one of her favourite dark trouser suit, while Helen considered selected her favourite leather jacket. She felt that, as her authority was secure, she needn't 'power dress' while in Nikki's case, she simply liked the feel of what she wore. "I suppose you've switched on to being back to the professional professional," Helen commented, a momentary 'word blindness' causing her to blindly reach out for the nearest words to mind. "Sure am," came Nikki's laconic reply as she added a touch of mascara. It was as well that she'd finished as a thought suddenly struck her and her cheek would have been badly smudged."Oh God, we forgot to watch the television," Nikki exclaimed, her hand over her mouth. "You mean, you wanted to see yourself on the television again since you won't be in the papers," grinned Helen. "Yes, well, first time around, being called 'lesbian cop killer' wasn't exactly what I wanted…….." Nikki said in a wheedling tone of voice. "But last time, having trodden the gutter press into the mire as a preliminary to playing a two handed game with John and crushing a couple of the apparatchiks of the Lord Chancellor's Department," teased Helen, freely borrowing her favourite John expressions came to mind," being in the public eye is just a little more attractive."

"Oh Helen, you are such a spoilsport," Nikki moaned in a joking kind of way.

"You mean for being right?……Oh well, if you're too busy to grab a paper at lunchtime, I'll check out the papers and we'll hope it's still on the six o clock news. Since the Metropolitan Police have been publicly humiliated, it might even be discussed in the House of Commons."

"You're joking, Helen. We're not that important."

"We might not be but the event is," answered Helen with her sober judgment of the situation." Who knows what the repercussions are in the corridors of power."

"Perhaps we might find out from John. He keeps his ear to the ground. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that his radar perceptions are about as good as Yvonne knowing everything that goes on at Larkhall."

"Praise indeed," agreed Helen, with not a flicker of surprise at Nikki's unusual comparison. She had too much respect for Yvonne's faultless intelligence system after witnessing how it had come within an ace of getting rid of Fenner," but don't you think we ought to be off to work. You were all for it a moment ago."

"Ah yes," Nikki said slightly absent-mindedly. She grabbed her handbag and led the way out the door. A shaft of brilliant sunlight greeted their appearance into the big wide world.


	4. Chapter 4

Scene Four

As George drove to her office, in her usual way, she was turning over the implications of what had happened to her. How could such an intensity of experience be constrained within the linear restrictions of time? It felt as if she had started living a second life as she reflected on how completely and passionately she'd fallen if love with Alice. She now realized what had been creeping up on her as she dealt with the practicalities of Sally Anne's case. She was acutely aware that she'd gone into this life changing experience as one person and, inwardly, had emerged as another except that all the externals remained the same.

George smiled warmly to herself at the memories of the most fantastic couple of days. She recalled how she had worked so hard for Sally Anne's trial and she had achieved a crushing triumph, which was up to anything Jo had delivered. She could understand what John had said over the years that achieving justice was a highly spiritual experience and she had scoffed at his words, closed her ears. Now she wasn't ashamed to admit that she could see what he had been driving at. She had felt profoundly centred by the experience and she hadn't been a theatrical actor playing a part. Her performance was that supreme expression of herself, given the legally forensic form of exposition. It was certainly a result by any standard. It had propelled her onwards to be so totally open to experiencing the party at Chix, being open and aware of Alice, making that magical connection and the night of passionate lovemaking that had ensued. Thursday off work with Alice had been like nothing on earth. They had both lived at the emotional height of human existence but on the Friday, both women had to return to work. At the back of her mind, George had known all along that there would be the inevitable comedown after the glorious time she had spent over the last day or so. She would be back to the reality of her work and the life that surrounded it. As soon as Alice was headed off to her place of work and her to hers, George felt that ache of being separated and longing to be reunited, as soon as it was possible. It was as if she had fallen in love for the first time in her life. George knew that something had changed irretrievably in her life and she had to follow it wherever it led. The way she drove alone showed an indication that undoubtedly there was a different George, as she was now calm and leisurely in her driving rather than angry and frantic.

As George pulled up outside her office and sat in her car, she looked around at her surroundings**. **Her neatly appointed office, within a stones throw of the Oxford Street shops was as it had always been. She focused closer in the clothes that she wore. Her 'power dressing' suit looked the same as it always did and so did her shirt. It was she who had changed. Besides the massive change in her sexuality, she had definitely joined the ranks of the rebels and that was change enough. On the other hand, she had that peculiar feeling that she had changed profoundly inside but everyone else would see the same old George. It made her nervous and she seriously questioned whether she would manage to hold together the various pieces of 'George as perceived.' In herself, she was totally certain of herself. She had fallen in love with Alice and the most important goal of her life was not to let her slip through her fingers. She now felt that she had the emotional wherewithal not to make that mistake. She simply had to orientate the rest of her life round it.

As she looked down the street on that fine August day, the bright warm sunlight made everything look sharp, new minted or was it her heightened sensitivities? Whatever it was, this really did feel like the very start of the rest of her life and she felt good inside. Lingering longer than she was used to, she prepared herself to spend the best part of the day in the office clearing up two days of accumulated files that would be sitting in her in tray. Her high heels clicked their way up the open plan staircase and her long suffering secretary who had become hardened to George's imperious nature was present. Although, 'truth be told', the woman had been surprised to see a more pleasant side of George when Claire Walker conferred with her on a case.

"Good morning, Barbara," George greeted her as she swung into her office with a broad smile on her face." There weren't too many problems while I was off?"

"I took a few phone calls from your clients but nothing pressing … sorted out the routine correspondence. What I couldn't handle I left for you," Barbara said nervously, unaccustomed to such pleasantry.

"Excellent," beamed George." This will keep me nicely occupied. I could do with something quietly relaxing after the excitement of the past few days."

"I understand from the papers that the Sally Anne Howe case was a total success. You'll be sure to get other cases like that coming your way."

"Yes……yes, it did go well," George replied, a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke slowly in a peculiarly distanced fashion before becoming more animated in her manner. "Yes, I went with Sally and Trisha to celebrate at a club afterwards and had a wonderful time of it."

"I'm very pleased for you George."

"Yes, so am I…. Oh, Barbara, if you get any really personal calls asking specifically for me, don't hesitate in putting them through. Now, before I start the day, what say we share a cup of tea to start the day?"

"Sounds wonderful…I'll make it," Barbara said quickly, nipping to the small kitchen area while she put her puzzled thoughts together. Finally, she gave up and concluded that if it meant that her boss wouldn't throw tantrums and her obnoxious boyfriend wouldn't patronize her and demand George's attention with a click of his fingers, life was looking up. She produced a tray with two cups of tea, a small milk jug and a teapot a little nervously, knowing how fussy George could be and was pleasantly surprised when George pronounced her first sip as excellent and chattered pleasantly to her.

When both had resumed their work later on, both were working quietly for a few hours when the phone rang. Barbara took the switchboard and intoned her usual greeting.

"Can I speak to George Channing, please?" a pleasant female voice called

"Who shall I say is calling?" Barbara enquired in her normal telephone manner.

"Oh yes," came the hesitant voice, taken off guard by the question." Tell her that it's Alice. She'll know who I am."

Barbara put the call on hold and spoke to George, expecting a petulant answer if she was lucky, angry if she wasn't.

"Definitely put the call through, Barbara," George spoke eagerly, the words pouring out in a stream." Make sure you don't lose the call. I've been kind of expecting it."

Barbara did as she was told and, again to her surprise, George's voice did not carry through the thin walls. More to the point, the call was unusually long by her standards. Eventually when she finished the call, George made one outward call and half an hour later, popped her head round to Barbara.

"I've cleared everything up, Barbara and there aren't any cases that will need my presence right now. I'm popping out to see my father. If you receive any phone calls, please will you take any messages? On Monday, I'm expecting Claire Walker first thing to call in about the Partridge compensation claim. Is that clear?" George said crisply, in a pleasant tone of voice.

"Are you expecting anyone in particular, George?" Barbara asked.

"Well, someone may call, you know, " George said, her manner, as close to being school-girlish as it would ever be. Barbara could swear that her boss was dying to let her into some kind of secret that only she knew but just about stopped short. There was a faint flush of pleasure on her face as skipped down the staircase and headed out to her car.

Joseph Channing greeted his talented beautiful daughter with his upper class version of open arms and George graciously accepted his greeting. By now, she was in such a pent up state of dying to tell someone about the new love in her life that it overrode her caution about such matters.

"I want to congratulate you on the splendid performance in the Sally Anne Howe case. Monty was sure to give a blow by blow account of the trial and I'd say, considering that your line of work has primarily been civil cases, you have performed splendidly."

"I must confess I had to do a lot of last minute swotting but once I started, I felt comfortable. What was a bit strange was putting that dreadful human resources woman through the hoop, where once I would have defended her."

"It will add more strings to your bow and you'll find that word gets around, George."

The smile on George's face felt very forced and artificial at that moment, as little did dear Daddy know what was to come. For a brief instant, she was tempted to back off from telling him her secret. The phrase 'faint heart never won fair lady' came back into her mind from long ago school lessons. The old fashioned phrase made her laugh inwardly at the delicious irony of the situation. Her spirits rallied but she opted not to drop this bombshell on her poor father too soon.

"It seems to me that I've been channeled by 'that man' in the sort of cases I had been taking on. I feel free to branch out a little and take the sort of work that I feel like doing. Jo Mills may have a rival in handling 'crusading' cases, even though the term embarrasses me."

Joseph Channing alternately glared in sympathy at his daughter's pointed reference to her ex and chuckled freely at her backhanded acceptance of herself in the same league as Jo Mills. He had often heard vitriolic denunciations of her rival so this was a step up in the world. Everything seemed to be coming together in the traditional finale of 'it all ended happily ever after.'

"It's strange the twists and turns that fate plays in our lives and how, after all the fury and uproar, John has turned out to be right all along. If the government wanted to have a judiciary united in thought and deed, it has succeeded admirably- in turning all and sundry against them, even traditional die hard Conservatives."

George smiled dutifully at her father's enthusiasm. Of course, she approved and agreed with the general sentiment. It was just that her boredom threshold kicked in at an early stage at intense and detailed political debates. "Everyone knew what needed to be done, for God's sake, so we might as well get on with it."

"You never know, the chain of recent events might even repair the rent in your relationship with John. I confess that I think of him in much kinder terms than I used to."

At this point, George was seriously alarmed and felt duty bound to put a stop to this train of thought. Having lived a lie with Neil Houghton, she felt duty bound to intervene.

"Daddy, I hope you aren't suffering the illusion that John and I will get back together. Even if both of us wanted it, it wouldn't work out."

"You haven't got Jo Mills to come between you. You can put the past aside as all of us have recently learned to do."

_Nice try, Daddy. I admire your silver-tongued guile but it's not good enough_, thought George. Suddenly, out of nowhere, her own ploy popped into her own imagination**.**

"I am getting to be friends with John and we have a further tie through Charlie but that's as far as it goes. The problem is that John is a womanizer and always will be so. It would come between us and spoil what we have………..especially as I have a new partner."

Joseph looked at his daughter more closely. There was a glow that radiated from her and a feeling of tranquillity that was new. He fondly bathed in the satisfaction of being both eagle eyed father and court of appeal judge who had got to the bottom of the matter. "Oh, tell me more, George." "I've realized that I've always gone for the smooth, debonair man who is self assured and basically self centred. Oh sure in his public life, John is dedicated to justice and all manner of worthy causes but in his private life, aside from his major contribution in bringing up Charlie, he does put himself first. The men I've gone out with since then haven't even got John's admirable sense of public values and as for that creep….." "Enough!" said Joseph. " So what's he like?"

"Well, the proverbial tall dark stranger swept me off my feet and is kind and gentle. It makes a change to have a partner that cares about you and who you care about."

"That's excellent news, George," Joseph said enthusiastically." Is he in the legal profession? We ought to ask him round one evening. I'd be delighted to meet him."

"There's a couple of catches. You wouldn't be meeting a barrister or judge or solicitor but a social worker……" started George, her voice trailing off in an uncertain fashion now she was reaching the crux of the matter. Only that faint light bulb of hope kept shining.

"Well, that's not too much trouble. He is in a caring profession."

"The other catch is that her name is Alice. She's a woman."

"What!" exclaimed Joseph Channing. His mouth hung open and he collapsed back in his chair in shock. His breath came in and out in short sharp bursts for a little while. George dashed over for a glass of water and held it to his lips. She was seriously worried

for him.

"You can't be serious. I mean, what's brought all this on. I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"Daddy, please listen to me," the blond haired woman said with as much sincerity that she could summon up in her voice and trying to engage his staring eyes. "I have succeeded after all these years in finding someone decent who wants me for who I am. I stumbled into this situation and so did she. It was the old romantic story about two pairs of eyes meeting across a crowded room, which I thought was absolute romantic drivel only I found it to be true. You, Monty and the others have taken the unheard of step of going on strike. This is my unheard of step in really falling in love for the first time."

"You always were a heartbreaker," Joseph whispered, ancient memories obscuring the unimaginable present.

"That was because I didn't care about the harm I did. I know this is a shock for you but I want to be honest. Would you really want me to keep something important from my own father?"

"Fetch me a glass of whisky, not that miserable water," Joseph said, his voice becoming more of its normal rumble. He drank deeply of the glass and the world appeared to become more normal and not spin crazily off its axis. At least it looked normally fuzzy as the potent spirits worked through his blood stream.

"You really are serious about this."

"As serious as when I fought this last court case. I truly believe in both."

Joseph squinted at George as he started to assimilate what George was saying. A nameless fear ran through him.

"You need to think seriously about what you're taking on. I assume this woman is experienced in these ways and you are not."

"I can be a quick learner, Daddy. I think I'm a better judge of character than I have been in the past."

_Ten out of ten for trying to bowl that tricky googly past my guard, _Joseph Channing thought with feelings of respect for his daughter_. She's not getting away with it that easily though._

"This could be your professional ruination as I'm not sure your clients are even anything like the somewhat reformed died in the wool conservative as I am."

"Would you rather I choose a more reputable partner and go back to Neil?" George fired back, saving that shot just when it could best be used. Joseph Channing's face and mind went blank as the horrifying implications hit home. He knew that the worst of all worlds was his beloved daughter going back with that fearful weasel, with which he and the brethren had fought a bitter battle. All this time, he did not reply but chewed the matter over. Perhaps the devil he knew might not be the best. George ran her expert eye over his features and made her final move.

"Would it help to see her and for you to make your own mind up? We could perhaps meet somewhere on neutral territory."

"I shall need to think it over, George. You cannot expect a snap answer tonight. You do know that you'll have to tell John. He might not be particularly understanding and liberal minded either," he rumbled at normal volume, subsiding with a suggestion of a chuckle.

George helped herself to a little of her father's spirits, watered it down a touch and as she drank it, permitted herself a slight smile. She was pretty sure she had made a good start in winning her father over.


	5. Chapter 5

Scene Five

On the Thursday after the trial, John was up much later than that of his usual habit. He had enjoyed a celebration drink with Monty and Joseph Channing and was feeling somewhat the worse for wear. Fortunately, there were no pressing demands on his time so he took a leisurely stroll to the newsagents round the corner. Its display of newspapers was slanted more towards the Times and Telegraph thanks to its reliable readership.

John leafed quickly through the tabloids first. Seeing that they had featured the obvious page 1 world shattering importance of Posh and Becks, and ostentatiously relegated the trial to the sidelines in a cursory disgruntled 'law and order' tone of voice, he replaced them in their place with a visible expression of disgust. Carefully reading the Guardian, the Times and the Independent, he noticed that they devoted more attention to the case. He paid for the papers then strolled back to his digs.

He took his place in the deserted dining room then spread his papers on the white linen tablecloth. With a smile of satisfaction, he read the establishment's gnashing its teeth at inconvenient justice. What gave him cause for concern was this wasn't the Telegraph that wrote in this style but the Guardian, whose liberal credentials he had been accustomed to believing. He was beginning to suspect that there was too close a relationship between the leader writers and government politicians. He wasn't sure if the Times or Telegraph would treat the case any more fairly.

"_The recent case where the Metropolitan Police were successfully sued for negligence in apparently failing to be omniscient in stopping a rogue member of the police force from raping __a colleague raises__ worrying questions. The general public is only too aware that social developments originating from other countries have a not altogether healthy effect on traditional freedoms. One of those is 'compensation culture' where blame is apportioned not only at the perpetrator of the injustice but at institutions only tangentially involved. It is all too evident that DC Gossard should have been brought to book and probably would have been, if it weren't, for the fact that fate decided that he died in the course of his duties. There should be a measure of public sympathy for the poor unfortunate policewoman whose life was blighted but it must be remembered that money isn't the panacea to all the problems of the world. She may well enjoy the good fortune that came her way but the losers are those who run our public bodies who will be inhibited from making the right decision in favour of what is safe and expedient. " _

He studied the Times and a broad smile split his face as he reached the near to middle page. He then laughed loudly as he read the highly entertaining article.

"_The Home Secretary Neil Haughton has reconsidered his bill to restrict the powers of the judges in view of a run of judgments that were politically controversial. He has considered after due reflection that a voluntary code of conduct is more preferable and that judge's ideas ought to be engaged for their input. 'After all, peer pressure and self regulation are the surest guarantees of a legal system which will operate more harmoniously." _

This was running up the flag of surrender with a vengeance. He was sure that some nameless functionary, acting on direct orders, drafted the press release for Haughton to mouth to the press. This was a superb tonic to his spirits. After the past turbulence in his life, he was now in more tranquil waters. Professionally, things could not be better. He was set to live his life in perpetual battle with the establishment but they had recently been rebuffed by the strike. His mortal enemy Neil Haughton had suffered a clear blow to his prestige. All he needed was to get his personal life back on track. It crossed his mind that this was the most intractable problem of all.

*******

The weeks after Sally Anne's trial were a particularly mellow period in Helen and Nikki's lives. The summer days meant that they were able to sunbathe in their back garden or head out to Chix as they liked or to Claire and Peter's house. Their social life was expanding, taking in Sally Anne and Trisha, and George and Alice, while their friendship with John was maintained more at a distance. Both women were now well established and happy in their jobs and savouring the more pleasant side of life. One Thursday evening, they got home from work and Nikki suddenly turned to Helen almost as soon as they got through the front door. "Why don't we go out for a meal instead of spending time with all the cooking and washing up," Nikki suggested. "We could always leave it to Saturday when we don't have to worry about getting up in the morning. We'll have more of a chance of chilling out." "Not if we get going quickly enough," urged Nikki. "I just feel like going out and spending a romantic evening with low lights, romantic music. We need to take ourselves out of ourselves from time to time if you know what I mean." Helen noticed the way that Nikki was virtually hopping about from one foot to another in excitement and went along with the taller woman's idea. After the time they had lived together, Helen was still the one tending to plan events ahead methodically while Nikki was more inclined to come up with spur of the moment impulsive ideas. As with everything, each was inclined to explore the other's point of view. Helen shelved her quiet night in idea and got on board Nikki's plan. "If it makes you happy, Nikki…" she started to say until she saw the other woman's raised eyebrows and knew exactly what she was thinking.……"But come to think of it, I'm starving and I fancy the ideas as well." "I've had the ideal restaurant suggested to me at work for a change. It's quiet and intimate and the food is excellent," Nikki exclaimed excitedly. "You book the meal, sweetheart. I trust to your judgment," Helen said in her placid tones.

The quick beam of pleasure on Nikki's face and the way she kissed her on her cheek told Helen that she'd done the right thing, not least by herself. Nikki led the way to their bedroom and immediately picked out her white suit from the Paris trip while Helen selected her floaty black dress. That cut down on some of the time and after showering and applying their makeup, they were soon ready to go.

Helen looked at Nikki as they paused to look at each other in wonder. They saw in each other everything they physically admired, To Helen, that suit gave Nikki that slightly androgynous look about her that was unmistakably attractive, offset by the pure femininity of her delicate makeup enhancing her suntanned skin and her exquisite perfume. By contrast, Helen's strappy black dress showed off her generous breasts to best advantage the bodice clinging to the contours of her figure and falling away in folds to end above her knees, revealing her shapely legs, and all for Nikki's admiring eyes. Helen gave that teasing half smile, placed her hands on her hips and turned to the side, raising her right high heel off the carpet.

"Will I do, darling?"

"Will you…..?" answered Nikki, her voice hoarse with desire." My powers of self control are only just enough in restraining myself from ravishing you on the spot."

"So later?"

"It's a deal."

In a state of high excitement, the two women zoomed off out of the street, Nikki behind the wheel. The sun was starting to set but the sunlight still streamed into the car, making the dark haired woman reach for her sunglasses. Helen lay back in the passenger seat, content to be driven along by her lover who had obviously worked out the directions. They twisted and turned down the back streets and ended up in a part of London that was off their beaten track. Nikki spun the car in a right hand turn and Helen saw the welcome sight of the restaurant, as she was getting very hungry indeed.

They floated down the street and entered the rarified atmosphere of the restaurant. The waiter politely indicated a quiet corner that gave a view both of the main street and of the length of the restaurant. Soft flamenco guitar music offered a lilting refrain to their thoughts. Instantly both women had the curious sensation. _It feels as if we are out on our first date, or as it should have been if we had met normally, both women felt. _

As normal, the waiter handed both women the wine list and the menus and they were nothing out of the ordinary and allowed to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

_********_

The aftermath of the trial had set Sally Anne and Trisha on a completely different course altogether. The trial had cast a shadow over their lives that were only realized once it had been removed. Sally had seen the embodiment of the authority of the Metropolitan Police Force humbled and, better still; they owed her ninety thousand pounds. In the cold light of day, it sounded unbelievable, unreal and they knew they would have to bide their time until the administrative machine would turn that into hard cash. In the meantime, Sally Anne felt empowered and her newfound confidence shifted the balance between the two women. Trisha eagerly embraced this change, as this was what she had really wanted all along. Thursday night, Sally-Anne and Trisha headed out on their first night together at Chix. Sally Anne had a curious feeling as this was a place that she associated with pleasure and now was going to become her place of work. She had started to learn from Trisha just what running the club entailed and was confident enough to hand in her notice at her job. She had spent the last few weeks getting a crash course in how to work a bar and had also immersed herself into some of the complexities of the business side. Sally had briefly shown a practical side to her personality when she had moved her belongings from her old flat into their present home but now she really came into her own. The two women came early to the deserted club and opened up. Sally looked at Trisha wondering if she could make her first move and then moved to the switches to click on the flashing lights. In a deserted club and in the absence of music, it had an eerie feel about it. It seemed strange to her that the normal party atmosphere of the club could be put together or was it a spontaneous happening? "You'll have to get used to working strange hours, babes. The nine to five brigade are settling down to bed while here, the party is just warming up." "I'll get used to it, Trisha. Working for the police force involved working funny hours sometimes… Here, at least I feel safe." Trisha gave her a quick kiss on her cheek and went behind the bar area to check out the stock. It gave her a feeling of starting out all over again but didn't bring any regrets about Nikki. Life had moved on for both Trisha and Nikki and each of them had a new partner in their lives with no regrets.

********

Helen and Nikki sat back in the quiet intimacy of the restaurant amidst the chatter of the others who were enjoying their meal. They were peacefully savouring the flavours of the meal and sipping a glass of wine while the lights were turned down low.

During the meal, Helen, was enchanted by the sight of Nikki. Nikki had talked softly in her best conversational manner, meshing in with Helen's observations. The sheer vitality of her manner mingled with the way the shadows and low light sculptured the contours of her face while her deep brown eyes were like pools of water into which Helen could gratefully immerse her whole being. The white Mandarin jacket with large buttons gave her a look of strangely alluring formality and brought out the best in her contours. In turn, Nikki was mesmerized by the smaller woman's laughing flirtatious manner that was perfectly natural to her. It was her expression of the sheer joy of the present and a variety of expressions flitted over her expressive features. It was a strange treat for them both that they could look at each other and not touch. They could relax and take life easy.

"We'd better be making tracks, babes," Nikki finally said as the gently soporific atmosphere of the restaurant and the effects of the meal made her feel sleepy." You can drive us home if you want."

"Suits me,' Helen murmured. They smiled their appreciation at the waiter and paid for the meal. By now, the streets were quiet and dark as they strolled down the street. Everything felt perfectly calm and serene, just two women out for a quiet meal. They both made a mental note to come back here another time.

"At least we won't have a sink full of washing to come home to," murmured Nikki. They could get on home and settle down to bed.

Helen settled herself behind the wheel and smiled as Nikki clicked on her seat belt. She wasn't feeling much better herself but she figured that she would be able to navigate them back home somehow. The red Peugeot moved from the side street and set off down the road.


	6. Chapter 6

**Scene Six **

All the odds were stacked against such a contrastingly dramatic conjunction of events that Helen and Nikki stumbled into by sheer accident. Here they were, in Helen's red Peugeot driving around in the dark. They had taken the wrong turn on their way home after the meal at a restaurant and had landed up in an unfamiliar featureless part of London. They could easily, have gone another night or stayed in to cook a meal in as they were more often likely to do. So much that was to happen stemmed from such trivial origins.

The two women puzzled over that strange disjointed territory that they were passing through, where smatterings of old Victorian terraced houses, railway bridges which trains thundered over and modern singles flats built over signed and sealed resident's car parks.

"Know where you're going, Helen?" the dark haired woman asked mildly as they drove along one badly lit street after another.

"If my memory serves me right, we go over the crossroads and fork right. I haven't been this way for ages," came her attempt at certainty in the smaller woman's reply.

"So we're lost, I guess."

"Trust my instincts, Nikki," Helen grinned wryly, admitting in a shame faced fashion." In any way, this place looks like the back of beyond. It's so featureless."

Nikki calmly reached forwards to flip open the compartment and pick up the A – Z map of London streets. It looked like they would need it for when the first indication came of what road they were on. Everywhere around them was dark, and desolate. In the meantime, she strained her eyes to try and make sense of the world about them. It looked pretty futile but the two women kept calm. As the crossroads didn't help out very much and gave little of the area's secrets, Helen sighed and pinned her hopes to the T-junction that she thought was coming up ahead. The two women smiled at each other. This situation was no big deal to either of them. It was a situation that the two of them would be able to resolve sooner or later, if only the unspoken reserve option of finding someone to ask the way. They each had confidence in each other and in the purring sound from under the bonnet of their Peugeot.

Helen's sharp eyes spotted a closely placed street lights crossing their path which announced the junction she was nearly almost certain they would be coming to.

"See what I told you? I think we go right here," she grinned.

"Take it slowly so I can spot the road sign if there is one," Nikki answered in her easy tone of voice.

The junction they approached was totally bare of everything and at the same time, the illumination took them out of the near total darkness that they had felt their way through. As their car approached the junction, the sounds of a car being driven at speed caught their ears and pretty soon, they saw a sleek green convertible. It wasn't quite as close to the junction intersection as they were and Helen felt safe in making ready to swing onto the main road ahead of the other car.

"Jesus Christ, he's accelerating," Nikki shouted, urgently. In a split second, Helen changed her plans and hit the brakes, letting the other car flash ahead of her. Tight lipped with anger, she swung in after the other car, ratcheted the car up the gears and shot after the rogue driver.

"That car looks like Karen's," Nikki observed idly

"It is Karen's car," spat out Helen. "That's her registration number. Her driving hasn't improved any."

Nikki hadn't seen Helen so determined behind the wheel since she had driven Nikki, dressed in her borrowed nurse's uniform, back to Larkhall after they'd first spent the night- or part of a night- together at their flat. That memory underpinned her present nervousness about the present and compelled her to give voice.

"Helen, you surely can't do a citizen's arrest. Just let the idiot get pulled up by the police rather than risk the same happening to us."

"Can't I? Just watch me."

"I don't get it. If that is Karen, why is she driving like a lunatic? She's swerving all over the road and doing her best to attract attention."

Nikki's questioning tone of voice struck a chord in that background part of Helen's mind that wasn't absorbed by her quest. The here and now was frustrated by the fact that she wasn't cutting down the lead that the green sports car had over her. Karen must be driving like a woman possessed.

Suddenly, the green sports car veered off left down a side street with a screech of tyres and in no time at all, the lights of civilization came into view. Karen's car swung right round the corner and, tyres screeching tore down the street, a woman pedestrian recoiling at the reckless driving and shouting her complaint. Mentally apologizing to them all, Helen shot after the green car, past a row of terraced houses and swung the steering wheel, as she turned sharp left and then right onto a major road.

"Jesus, Helen, you'll never catch up with that maniac. Let's face it, you're far too sane a driver to compete with that headcase."

"Why make all that bloody noise? This isn't like her. I've worked with her for God's sake. Does she want to end up in trouble?"

At last, Helen began to eat up the gap between the two cars and she could glimpse the driver's unmistakable long fair slightly curly mane of hair. They were approaching a more built up area, the civilization they had craved and could see more late night takeaways and pubs and a small group of people on the pavement and one man standing on the edge of the group in the road. Surely, Karen ought to slow down and carefully swing past them? Helen knew that Karen's only weakness was summed up in two words, Jim Fenner, and he had since exploited and dumped her. She should know better.

"Jesus," Nikki exclaimed in horror, vocalizing her own feelings. Helen's nerves felt as if they were standing out on stalks on her skin as the green sports car showed no signs of slowing but drifted into the left and straight at the man who was paralyzed to the ground in shock. The car careered forward right at the man with an impact that both women felt through their bones and he rolled over the bonnet onto the ground the other side. Karen's car hesitated just that fraction of a second, then accelerated off down the road, screeched round the corner and was gone.

"Stop the car, Helen. We've got to get out and help."

Helen lifted her foot off the accelerator and brought her car to a stop. Both knew that somehow they should put their own concerns on hold and help out as best they could.

Helen grabbed her handbag and a shawl to go round her shoulders and locked the car. The two women made their way with great determination to the scene of the accident. As they reached the fringes of the crowd, Nikki asked the nearest person in her politest manner, clutching her London A – Z map in her hand.

"I know it sounds like a silly question but exactly where are we?"

The man wearing a workman's jacket and jeans looked with disdain at this elegant posh woman and pegged her as a typical Sloane Ranger type, except for her short hair, obviously an educated type, never seen the tough side of life that the decline of London's docklands had brought about. He reeled off a list of directions that Nikki's quick mind placed them in what was left of traditional London docklands outside the yuppifying effect of Canary Wharf. A crowd of people gathered round with helpless sympathy at the man who was laid out flat on the ground. A middle-aged man wearing a brown coat had immediately assumed the role of nurse and knelt down to tend for him. The mood was a mingled one of shock and anger.

"Were you involved with that maniac? I saw you driving after her," an accusing voice greeted them.

"Not if we can help it," Nikki said shortly.

"Has anyone phoned the police and ambulance because if not, I've got a mobile phone," Helen's carrying voice cut through the air.

"Better make it the police as well."

"I'm onto that."

The man who was tending to the fallen man shook his head in a significant manner and a low murmur of anger rippled round the crowd. Helen took her mobile phone and crisply rattled out the request, helped by Nikki's directions.

"She didn't have to do that. She could have driven down the road like any normal decent person," muttered a middle aged woman who summed up the general feelings accurately.

"You look as if you were chasing after the car?" asked a man who was carrying a crash helmet.

Both Helen and Nikki knew that question was coming and they immediately felt uncomfortable. Nikki was the first to figure out an answer, which had the simple advantage of being the truth.

"Yeah well, the driver cut right in front of us at a T junction and nearly caused an accident. We wanted to catch up with that headcase and give him a piece of our mind only that sports car was too fast for our Peugeot."

"So you thought you'd do a citizen's arrest or something like that."

"Helen here used to be Governor at Larkhall Prison. Old habits die hard."

Nikki's quiet pointed words made the slightly suspicious and hostile questioners back off. They suddenly put two and two together and realized why Helen could take control of a situation. They had been deceived by her very feminine appearance. The notion of running a prison carried a lot of machismo in this neck of the woods and Nikki traded on it as much as she deployed her reputation of lesbian cop killer amongst the tougher inmates of Larkhall. Out here, she was just another respectable citizen, more upmarket than the rest of the crowd.

"Look here everyone, we've only been out for a meal and got lost on the way home, out in the middle of nowhere. Now this tragedy's happened, we only want to stay and help in any way," added Nikki in her most reasonable tones while Helen maintained her stern expression so as to sustain her act.

Murmurs of assent showed that the atmosphere eased a bit. In the stillness of the night the crowd stated to talk in little groups amongst themselves as they waited for the police to turn up. Helen gave a sideways nod to indicate to Nikki that she wanted to talk privately. She leaned up against the wall of the Chinese takeaway and started to explain the concerns that were starting to crowd her mind.

"You know we'll have to stay for the police and give statements to the police. We are likely to be the principle witnesses, like it or not. "

"Yeah," Nikki said nervously, flipping open a cigarette packet and lighting up. The thought of renewed contact with the police in general was starting to make her feel nervous." They'll really welcome me coming back into their lives."

"Be reasonable, Nikki. They have other things to do than remember old grudges. In any case, they might not remember you. You're a public-spirited citizen… remember that. We could have buggered off like any other selfish sod but we're staying to help out. What worries me is that we're going to have to point the finger at Karen when I don't know what the hell's been going on. Has she flipped for some reason we don't know?"

"Other people on the street might have clocked the registration number. Let's face it, the make and style of that car is pretty distinctive."

"Now you're talking, Nikki," Helen said softly, smiling more freely, seeing Nikki's considerable reasoning power kick into gear.

"I guess we'll have to play the situation with a straight bat. That's one of my dad's favourite expressions that I thought pretty naff but now I think of things, it's been my guiding principle."

As Nikki turned up her jacket collar as she felt the chill night air, Helen surreptitiously squeezed her lover's friend affectionately. They were feeling more centred and ready to face events, whatever they might be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Scene Seven **

The distant sounds of wailing sirens started to percolate through the crowd's senses**,** gradually becoming louder. Suddenly, the shapes of two police cars and an ambulance came into view, as they shot up the street with blue revolving lights flashing and screeched to a halt. Doors were quickly flung open and the paramedics shot over to the fallen man**. **The paramedics immediately slid the man onto a stretcher in an ominously unhurried fashion. If there were signs of hope, they would have certainly whipped out their oxygen masks and defibrillating paddles and screeched off down the street. As it was, one of them had a quick word with the nearby policeman who nodded his head. The ambulance set off in an ominously leisurely fashion to its destination.

The policemen made their way over to those who were immediately on the scene**.** They questioned each of the passers by in their brisk businesslike fashion while Helen and Nikki kept to the fringes. Nikki shivered emotionally inside**,** as the sounds brought back frightening memories and associations. Helen knew straightaway what was on her mind. Helen's thin dress was not much defence against the cold night air and she physically shivered with the cold.

"Don't worry, darling. We've done nothing wrong," Helen whispered and planted a delicate kiss on Nikki's cheek. Nikki smiled and stroked Helen's hair affectionately, knowing that they may not have been in the most tolerant environment that there ever was.

"You need to ask those two women what was going on. After all they were chasing after that murdering woman," concluded the middle aged woman who stood nearby, her hair cut in a well disciplined short blond bob cut, speaking in a particularly loud voice. Both Helen and Nikki immediately felt the eyes of the law focussed on them even before the sergeant paced over in his number nine boots. Nikki turned her head to one side but Helen stood foursquare, feeling that combative streak in her**,** as it started pumping adrenaline through her nervous system. She was ready for anything and everything that might be thrown at them. It didn't matter that her flimsy outfit didn't dress the part to override supercilious policemen in the comfortable authority of their uniforms. She felt that she had that strength.

"I was the driver, sure enough," she boldly declared.

She trotted out the preliminary enquiries firmly and confidently enough then went on to state her occupation**, **which made him blink**,** as she was completely different from those he was accustomed to interrogating.

"Were you chasing after that car?"

"Not exactly," Helen began to say when the man cut her off rudely.

"Were you chasing that car, yes or no?"

"Perhaps it would be easier if I explain in my words. It might save valuable time," she said softly with her most winning smile. Nikki looked sharply at her lover and noticed the forced smile that played on her face.

"Go ahead," he said curtly.

"The car cut ahead of us at the junction of the ……" Helen's voice tailed away until Nikki helpfully pointed out the junction on her road map with her forefinger………….." "When the car, a green MG sports car, registration number MHL 324L cut ahead of us… I instantly recognized the car as being that of Karen Betts, a wing governor of Larkhall Prison where I was once acting Governing Governor. It was being driven in a very peculiar erratic fashion, swerving from side-to-side and screeching round corners. I drove after the car , as I wanted to catch up with the driver and give that driver a piece of my mind. It was going so fast that my Peugeot was never able to get close. The car nearly had a side-to-side collision with a grey car coming out from this junction….. And here," Nikki's forefinger pointed out the junction….. "Until it hared down this street. Instead of swinging away past the pedestrian, the car drifted to the left and straight into the pedestrian, who was tragically killed. After the man rolled over the bonnet and the way was clear, the car drove off into the night. When I saw what had happened, naturally, I stayed behind to give assistance together with Nikki_**,**_ as any public-spirited citizen should. I then phoned up your control center on my mobile phone."

Nikki admired the way Helen spoke in a clearly articulated controlled tone of voice that answered pretty well**,** most of the questions as she went along. In reality, she was wresting a certain amount of control from the man as he couldn't help but be receptive to her tone of precision and authority so that his manner became more amenable.

"Did you get a glimpse of the driver?"

"I couldn't get close enough to see for sure**,** but the driver had a mane of long fair hair. That was all I could see."

"I notice you use the word 'it' or the driver, never 'she' or 'her.' Can you explain this?"

"The Karen Betts I know is an experienced, responsible prison officer who had worked off and on for me. So I couldn't understand why that car was driving so recklessly. It's not in Karen Betts nature to drive in such a manner. Something doesn't add up."

"Madam, you leave the theories and investigation to us, the professionals," retorted the man with a mixture of respect and patronization. "We may require you to make a formal statement if charges are brought against Miss Betts. We'll be in touch. So what about your friend?"

Helen opened her mouth to protest but gave up on the idea of trying to tell the police how to do their job. The words she thought encapsulated their thinking whereas in reality, what she knew of Karen put her at an advantage over them. These coppers were touchy and vain about their professionalism where they had no right to be. Her eyes flickered over to Nikki and tried to silently reassure her.

"Name?"

"Nikki Wade."

A look of recognition flashed across the policeman's face and Nikki's heart sank. They knew who she was all right. Her portrait might easily be pinned up on a dartboard in some policeman's bar or wherever they hang out, off duty. She felt vulnerable**, **as the months she had spent out of prison had accustomed her to behave naturally without having to put up some kind of an act. It was only such a short while ago that she had that sense of peace and contentment with the world.

"Wait a minute, don't I know you?"

"I rather doubt it. I don't make a habit of socializing with policemen. High court judges...Yes. Barristers…Yes. Policemen, no," Nikki replied in a taut tone of voice.

"So what is your address, Nicola Wade?"

"The same as Helen's. We live together," Nikki said shortly.

"You mean to say that….."

"Yes, we are partners."

"Partners? You might as well be roommates for all we know about you."

"Huh?" Nikki said uncomprehendingly. This conversation was getting surreal. From her experience, there was one reason for two women to live together and that was because they were lovers. Women who chose to share a flat or house with no loving relationship between them struck her as totally eccentric.

"Can you stop all this talk about our sexuality and get on with the interview," Helen quietly intervened and a flash of irritation on the man's face was his only reply.

"The answer to the next question that you'll ask will be about my occupation. I work as a researcher for the Howard League for Penal Reform."

"A do gooder in other words," sneered the man. He didn't know what it was but it sounded like the typical liberal organization that gave him and his mates a load of grief.

"A professional, I'll have you know," Nikki said firmly, fixing the man's eyes with her stern gaze as she drew herself up to her full height There was a tense pause in the interrogation which was Nikki's bid to wrest some sense of autonomy. Inwardly, she surprised herself with the firmness of her reaction.

"So how did manage to be involved, in this, in the first place?" he asked in wooden tones.

"A friend at work suggested that we try out a new restaurant in the Docklands. Here's the leaflet. It wasn't in a part of town that we knew so when we were on the way back home, we'd got lost in this featureless part of London. This MG cut in front of our car and the rest is as Helen described it."

"So have you got anything to add to your…. partner's account of what went on tonight?"

"I'm sorry to say that there isn't a great deal, officer."

"Since you were the passenger, you might have seen more of what was going on. It's possible that your chasing the car made it crash into the man and caused the tragedy."

"That is definitely not true. I drive myself and that stretch of road is easily wide enough," maintained Nikki, strongly pointing with her finger, "That driver could have cleared the pedestrian easily. There was nothing else on the road. Instead, he deliberately drove at that poor man. The tyre marks on the road should tell a very interesting story if you care to examine them."

Helen had to repress a smile as Nikki gave back to this arrogant man far more verbal punches than she received, all in a beautifully controlled fashion.

'You know that we may need to interview you further on the matter and maybe give evidence in a court of law. You know what that means of course."

"I'm only happy to help out as a public-spirited citizen," Nikki responded, a smile spreading across her face. Grumpily, the police officer turned aside letting the two women start to edge away.

"Guess you've got homes to go to," one of the spectators said with understated respect. The hostile treatment by the police had swung public sentiment in their direction. Strangers or not, they had certainly mucked in and didn't take any crap from anyone.

That went down well in this down to earth part of London.

"Darling we'd better make tracks for home. I don't know about you but I'm tired and cold."

"What time is it, Nikki?" Helen asked. It seemed a lifetime ago that the two women had walked out of the twinkling low lights of the restaurant thinking of nothing else but the way home to their flat.

"Unbelievably speaking…it's one o'clock in the morning. Just as well we've got the weekend, well after tomorrow**,**" Nikki murmured sleepily. Now that the tension had been released, the pressure was off them and the adrenaline disconnected. _This time, the police will let her go home_, she thought as they slid into their car.

It was freezing cold and they both thought of being in each other's warm embrace, as Helen started the engine. At last they were on their way home.


	8. Chapter 8

Scene Eight

The cataclysmic plunge in Karen's fortunes starting with the ignominious departure in handcuffs from Larkhall was the most emotionally shattering period of her life. It was as well for her nervous system, although tough**,** as she was, it didn't feel real to her.

It was only yesterday that she'd delivered the package to Area management that she hoped would deliver the knockout blow to Fenner once and for all. She'd sped to Larkhall by taxi, carelessly asking the driver to keep the change and had been gratified at the prompt response by the police to her reported theft of her car. She had hoped that they would update her on the latest, as she needed to return to her business of running

G-Wing. She might be on the way out in terms of working her notice at Larkhall**,** but she was fighting back and she had counted on Area Management being confronted with such incontrovertible evidence that it would put the skids under Jim bloody Fenner. Now she was faced with the terrifying prospects of the tables being turned on her, and worse.

"This is totally insane," she protested to the stolid policeman after they frog marched her through the gates and towards the car park outside the walls. There was an empty space where her car should have been parked. She should be in the prison welcoming the new prison officer, Selena Geeson and continuing with the list of duties she had lined up for the day while her bomb was due to explode at Area.

"Come on, you have to accompany us to the police station," came the wooden answer from DS Reivers, the nondescript balding man wearing a leather jacket. The minor courtesy of the open rear door of the police car was offered to her as she was half bundled into rear seat, a policeman either side of her like some common criminal. Not for the first time in the days to come, the thought crossed her mind that she treated prisoners better than these policemen treated her.

She was whisked off in the car that took her away from all that she held dear. This must be a nightmare but whatever lunatic asylum she'd fallen into, she knew that she would have to try and fight her way out of it. Key phrases had burnt their way into Karen's mind 'abandoning your car after a hit and run incident' and 'death by dangerous driving.' They were the only clues as to what had happened to her car when she had parked her car in its usual spot and wherever the car had been picked up.

Karen stood sulkily as she was hanging around waiting to be booked in. Feelings of mingled anger and humiliation swelled up in her as her fingerprints were taken and she was breathalysed. She was escorted to an interview room where the door was shut tight on her. That was an insult for a start. Unknown to her, there was a fierce debate as the police station was hit by a sudden crisis and the young DC that had accompanied DS Reivers was pulled off to assist on another case. It dawned on them that the very man who might be best able to crack open the case was within the building, one who was burning for revenge for the way he had been sent off with a flea in his ear over the supposed accidental death of Renee Williams, the very vindictive DI Sullivan.

"Ah, we meet again. I remember meeting you as if it was yesterday, don't I Miss Betts?"

Karen's heart sank. She had been cursed by a run of bad luck, starting with the way that Snowball's carefully planted 'second' suicide note had been contrived to drop her in it. Her anger flamed up at that dangerous and pathetic woman who had enacted her crazy suicide pact, the final sting of a dead wasp**.**

"As if it was yesterday," intoned the suddenly subservient DS Reivers. At the best of times, they made for a very unfunny bad double act, and right now, they were doing Karen's head in.

"It seems as if we have a lot of questions to ask you. You don't have to worry as we have all the time in the world," the loud tuneless Scottish voice intoned at funeral pace.

"I shouldn't wonder," Karen**,** replied non committally with a desperate attempt to assert her self worth." I am your favourite wing governor after all."

DI Sullivan's mouth twitched in response and he proceeded to ask her for her name and address as if they were total strangers and Karen went along with the charade.

"What were you doing on the evening of Friday August 19th 2001?"

"I returned home from Larkhall Prison at five o clock as I normally do. I had some urgent work to do at home. I cooked myself a meal and set to work. When I was finished which was around ten o_**'**_clock, I took a shower, watched a bit of television and went straight to bed."

"Have you any witnesses to co-oberate your version of the events of last night?"

"I'm afraid not. I've lived on my own since I split up with my boyfriend last January. All the flats on my block are self contained units so it's very unusual to bump into anyone else."

"An unfortunate choice of words, Miss Betts," DI Sullivan replied in loud sarcastic tones.

"I speak as I find."

"So did you go out during the course of the evening?"

"I told you, I stayed in."

"Not even to get a pack of cigarettes, evening paper?"

"I had everything that I needed, cigarettes, plenty of food and, most important, pen and paper."

"What did you need a pen and paper for?"

"To write a report as part of a file to the prison service Area Management detailing the systematic gross misdemeanors of a prison officer who works for me and to put together all the evidence."

"So you didn't slip out in your car for a quick errand?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, absolutely not?"

DI Sullivan was clearly relishing his position, shifted in his chair as he changed his tack to build up false hopes, which he planned to dash. Karen was not deceived.

"Assuming for the sake of argument your version of events is correct, when and how did you discover your car was missing?"

"I went down the flight of steps at the front of the flats, let myself into the underground car park and got to my parking space and found it missing."

"Hold on a minute, how did you manage to let yourself into the car park?"

"My car keys are on the same ring as my security card. I reached for my car keys but they weren't there. I assumed I'd mislaid them so I found my spare set and spare card in the safe place in the back of the cupboard and let myself in."

"Are you seriously telling me that you mislaid a set of keys? That doesn't sound like the actions of a competent governor of her majesty's prison- assuming that you had mislaid the set in the first place."

"Wing governor," corrected Karen. She needed the crumb of comfort from that tiny correction." Even we are human, like anyone else. I've always found the keys again on rare occasions they weren't where I thought I'd put them so initially I wasn't greatly worried."

"So you know nothing about the man you ran over while careering down the street and swerving from side to side like a maniac?"

"Which street? I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

"You know what I'm talking about. That main street in the old part of the docklands area."

"Perhaps you care to point it out on the map to me?" shot back Karen in icy tones." My job takes me to Larkhall prison, which is north of the river, as you very well know. If I'm asked to describe where I've been, I might at the very least have precise directions in the first place as to where I've supposed to have been."

DI Sullivan turned red in the face as Karen thrust this barbed riposte straight back at him. He had counted on his enemy being so humiliated by her situation that she couldn't fight back at him.

"For the information of the tape, DS Reivers is getting out an A – Z map of London, laying it on the table and pointing out to the suspect where her car ran over the pedestrian."

Karen peered at the mass of criss crossing lines and, first of all worked out where her flat was. Then she looked at where DS Reivers' forefinger was pointing. She shook her head in disbelief. He indicated an area that was right off the beaten track, being a woman of regular habits.

"I've never driven there in my life. It's completely off the beaten track for me."

"So where do you drive? I take it you're not some kind of recluse."

"I drive back and forward to Larkhall prison. As you can see on the map, it's in completely the opposite direction. I get my shopping at the Tesco's supermarket. Apart from that, I don't get out most days. So what makes you think it was me driving my car?"

"You were positively identified driving your car at 10:14pm racing down the street, swerving all over the place and driving straight at the deceased. The man rolled over your front bonnet and fell down on the road. You were seen to accelerate off down the road and round the corner. The man died of internal bleeding following severe internal injuries."

Karen's mouth fell open and her face turned white with shock. This didn't seem any more real than when she first heard the one liner description of the charges against her. Images rushed back into her head of the years her younger self slaved away in hospitals.

"Just how was I positively identified?"

"The driver was clearly seen wearing the same long fair hair. We showed a photograph of you to witnesses and they made a positive identification. You must admit you do stand out, in an ordinary crowd."

"So that's all you've got to go on. Looks pretty thin to me."

"Oh does it? Perhaps you care to take a look at the exhibits that do put you in the frame. Sergeant Reivers, will simply bring some objects that you might find familiar."

Out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw the other man fish out a prosaic looking bottle of whisky. It looked familiar but so what?

"Yeah, it's a common or garden bottle of whisky, the sort I buy at Tesco's but so do thousands of other people. There are racks of the stuff in case you hadn't noticed," she retorted scornfully.

"We've had this tested for fingerprints. Care to guess if they'll match yours? It was found propped up in the passenger seat where you'd left it after your binge drinking."

"I don't deny I'd been drinking whisky this evening. We aren't exactly living in America, in the Prohibition era. It means nothing."

"Then what about this blue coat which was also left in your car? I suppose that this isn't your coat and we can't prove it," DI Sullivan declared in loud triumphant and sarcastic tones.

This bombshell took the wind out of Karen's sails. It was indeed her coat and she'd recalled not being able to find it this morning in the same way as her car keys. This was complete and total lunacy but it didn't stop her feeling that her only defence was her memory of not being out last evening. Taking human life went totally against her nature. Someone had cunningly stolen her identity while she lay asleep and the real Karen would no more wantonly take human life. That was her sacred vow that she'd taken as a 17 year old joining the WRAF. The problem was that it was getting harder and harder to prove her side of the story.


	9. Chapter 9

Scene Nine

With a sinking feeling, Helen popped out to the newsagent on Saturday morning**,** as she was sure that the press would have been tipped off about the event. As she surveyed the display of newspapers, a front-page picture of Karen Betts on Page 1 of the nearest tabloid hit her in the eye. She reached out for it with nerveless fingers and quickly scanned it. She immediately felt sick in the pit of her stomach.

"Terrible business isn't it. The streets aren't a safe place with maniacs like her on the street," the vendor volunteered.

"Yeah, isn't it," Helen answered in non-committal tones. What else could she say?

"**Prison governor arrested for knocking down innocent pedestrian**

"_The often troubled world of the prison service took a dramatic turn when police arrested Karen Betts, prison governor at Larkhall Prison for wantonly driving into a pedestrian in a callous instance of 'road rage' in the London Docklands area last night. Spectators waiting outside a takeaway restaurant saw the green sports car driving erratically at great speed down the main street and hurtling straight for an innocent pedestrian who had made the mistake of standing just off the pavement. Many spectators recognized the driver's long fair hair and gave evidence that enabled the car to be traced and Miss Betts to be identified. She was arrested at the prison itself and is reported to have said that 'it was all a fit up.' She has since resigned from the __prison service__ and is awaiting trial._

_A Home Office spokesman was unavailable for comment." _

Helen carefully avoided the worst tabloid of the lot**,** which was only more strident, more illiterate and more bigoted than the others. It had an evil reputation of attacking every liberal cause she believed in and would rather enter an adult sex shop than be caught with that tabloid in her hands. She reached out to the Guardian to try and get some balance**,** and there it was on Page 7, less prominent, more restrained in tone but essentially the same message. It was at moments like this that made her especially cynical about so-called democratic freedoms.

"Hi babes, you've been out early," a yawning Nikki greeted a grim faced Helen as she entered the flat. She slung the newspapers on the table with a grimace on her face.

"I didn't want to check out the papers but it wasn't any use in us burying our heads in the sand.

"Bastards," said Nikki shortly after flicking through the articles. "They didn't waste any time in sticking the boot in."

"You're as convinced as you were last night that Karen had nothing to do with all this," stated Helen in flat tones of voice. It was hardly a question.

"I know what you're thinking, sweetheart. I went through something like this when I took out Gossard. You'll never believe the filth that they spewed up for weeks afterwards. That would make me naturally take Karen's side. I'd think that the whole thing is some kind of sick joke if I hadn't found how real it can get."

"Come and sit next to me on the sofa, sweetheart. We need to talk," said a tensed up Helen.

"Sure, fire away."

"The whole situation feels all wrong to me. I can feel it in my bones. The trouble is that my instincts point my way and the obvious facts the police will follow point the other way," Helen pronounced emphatically.

"Why are we bothering so much about Karen?" questioned Nikki sharply.

The obvious question stopped Helen in her tracks. She was running on gut instinct, the same impulse that had made her feel that no matter how that ultimate 'hard case' lifer had lashed every prison officer with her sarcasm, there had been something in her that had drawn her attention. She hadn't known what it was but when she found it, she recognized it for what it was.

"Good question, Nikki. Why should we bother? After all, we could say we haven't any need to get involved."

"…..That'll be the day**…." **murmured Nikki, which made Helen smile.

"…..We had planned to taking life easy after backing Sally Anne in her fight for justice. Everything is going well in our own lives so we could do with a break except….."

"…Except that we're suckers for trouble, the same as John and the rest of the gang are," finished Nikki for Helen, getting to the heart of the matter."

"There's more than that to it.Towards the end of my time at Larkhall, Karen exasperated me beyond reason. My patience ran out with her and I told her that I was sick to death in trying to get her to see that Fenner was a misogynist bastard. The tragedy is that she was basically the same kind of liberal wing governor as I was and we shared the same ideals. She'd seen Shell Dockley after Fenner had beaten her up and I'd warned her about him when I first came back to Larkhall. I thought she understood. So what did she do but climb into Fenner's bed and start warning me off against harassing the bastard. What irony. Yet, at the same time, she remained a decent prison officer. No way can I imagine the careful meticulous Karen Betts driving like a maniac, going out of her way to tell every policeman for miles around 'hey, come and arrest me.' On a basic self interest level, she's got a responsible job and she wouldn't wish to tarnish it."

"You're forgetting that we haven't seen her for, let me see ten months, since she drove into the back of us. People change."

"You're making my point for me. That was a pretty close comparison with last night's events. Just think… she made an understandable slip up that others have made before and she played things by the book the same way she did her job despite all the grief we gave her. She's no chancer**.** She'd been dumped on by Fenner and didn't sound if she had any illusions about him…"

"…..You're talking about the prison officer, Helen. What about the woman?"

"What indeed?" mused Helen thoughtfully. As usual, Nikki had hit the nail on the head. **"**You know, I never really knew her personally, not properly."

"So where does that take us?

"Let's look at it this way. There are only two possibilities. Either she drove the car for some crazy twisted reason we don't know about or someone else was driving that car."

"So who's that someone? Fenner? In a blonde wig and drag? That's the sickest, funniest idea I've ever heard in my life."

Nikki burst into hysterical laughter and fell off the sofa at the absurdity of the idea and Helen laughed along with her. All the same, Helen figured that they shouldn't exclude any possibility. Since when was anything normal at Larkhall except their love?

"If you're going to draw up a shortlist of someone who'd stitch Karen up in this way, who would you choose? I'd pick Fenner… Fenner and Fenner. There's not another person so evil."

"Yes but think of his psychology. He'd have to be totally bloody desperate to do that. If he's mouthed off about lesbians as if they're some kind of threat to him then meeting someone like Boy George or Julian Clarry would freak him out. I can't even think of him becoming like that. Come on, Helen, what you're saying is so improbable."

"There's a lot in what you're saying. We need more information about what Larkhall is like these days. Perhaps we need to scout out the place from the inside."

"Me become a con? No thank you." Nikki said shortly.

"Does your job give you the chance to get to visit prisons in your official capacity. You can't just work by paperwork and official reports. You and I know better than that."

A faraway look came into Nikki's eyes as she contemplated the idea and her own voice talking back to her….. _I've always backed away from going back to my past- the intensity of my memories, for good or bad are too much for me to deal with. The idea of it feels like stepping blindfold into a snakepit and it frightens me. I was barely strong enough to survive that period…..ah, but you did survive it. You could have gone under_**,**_ as some did, like Rachel Hicks. I can see all those uniforms, all those official frowns of disapproval of who I am, lesbian cop killer, troublemaker. I can see that policeman who interviewed us last night, same sort of uniform, same look of disapproval, and yet I'd stepped onto his territory and beaten him at his own game. I'm stronger than I thought I was… I can see the faces of my dear friends, the Julies, Yvonne and Barbara who I'd left behind. I've been enjoying the good life while they'd been rotting alive. How can I swan into Larkhall as this posh visitor and go home at nights while they go back to their lockups and the clang of the cell doors? _

"What's on your mind, Nikki?" Helen asked her at last, very gently and softly as Nikki's gaze became distant and abstracted.

"You were there as well, Miss Stewart?"

"What are you saying, sweetheart?" Helen asked, brushing the taller woman's cheek with her fingertips." I'm Helen, the same as I've always been to you."

It was that delicate touch which brought Nikki back to the present and she answered in an unsteady tone of voice as she reached out and held the smaller woman's hands. They were perfectly real to her.

"I'm sorry darling. I was just reliving my past…..our past…."

"Isn't that obvious."

Nikki laughed shakily, leaned forward and embraced her lover who, bewilderingly enough, used to lock her up for a living. It all seemed very peculiar to her as her memory recoiled from the past.

"If we're going to find out what the hell is going on at Larkhall, we have to go there and find out what we're dealing with. Let's face it, I'd think twice about going there but I haven't got the means of entry but you have. The most important thing is that you have the perfect right to be there, do some practical research and they have to defer to you. They'll hate your guts but you have the official clout that they are afraid of."

"What about the friends I left behind?"

"They'll understand. Just trust me," Helen said earnestly, unconsciously evoking the past. She was enormously relieved to read the sensitivities on Nikki's expressive face that her urgings had done the trick.

_I have trusted Helen where the light of my own individual perceptions did not illuminate the way and that trust has paid off. That was the ultimate test of trust and a fundamental reason why we're living together now. _

"Somehow, I've always known that there is unfinished business at Larkhall for both of us and we're destined to revisit it. Yes, we have to do it**.**"

The faraway look in Nikki's eyes as she spoke faded as she faced the here and now. She nodded her head decisively. The decision was made.

******

Getting authorization for her visit the following Monday was far easier than she had suspected. It was as if the machinery had been set up before she and Helen had agreed on the idea, just waiting for them to trip the pedal.

"You must be psychic, Nikki," her boss told her enthusiastically." This is exactly the right time and right prison. Between you and me, we have long had our suspicions that the glowing official reports from the Home Office aren't all they have been cracked up to be. The Governing Governor is a typical spin doctor type, all buzz words, which makes me especially suspicious of him."

Nikki had liked her boss from the word go. He was casually dressed and wore his hair slightly longer than was normal these days, evoking the catchphrase of 'ageing hippie.' That was an advantage and explained his quietness and maturity of manner. He accepted her**,** as she was which was a supreme virtue in her book. He had absolutely no authoritative controlling hang-ups. He was a good listener and was ready with advice when she came to him. Their working relationship was exactly the way she wanted.

"I have to make a confession,**"** she said awkwardly. "I am looking into the case that's in the papers, of the wing governor**,**who's supposed to have knocked down that pedestrian. I know her to some extent and Helen even better than I do and we're sure that this is an absolute impossibility. I want to go in there and check out the groundwork."

"You've confessed a private agenda, Nikki. It's good that you've been upfront with me from the start. My advice to you is to be very careful. You know the political climate we work in. You know better to not give our political enemies a handle they can use against us. I trust you, Nikki to do the right thing. Just don't let us down."

"Sure, Paul," Nikki said earnestly nodding her head. **"**I wouldn't let you down for all the tea in China. Helen has impressed that very same warning on me this morning. You know what she's like."

A smile curved Paul Armstrong's lips. He had vivid memories of that conference where the striking looking charismatic Scottish woman had made an immediately favourable impression on him. She had somehow outshone that earnest man with untidy hair and had drunk him under the table even if he had delivered a capable enough lecture**.** When Nikki**,** first confided who her partner was, he had put two and two together and immediately put them together in the same imaginary photograph frame without a blink of imagination.

"You make sure that you remember me to Helen. That's the only other thing I ask of you."

Nikki grinned confidently. Her spirits were lightened. She wouldn't let the guy down.


	10. Chapter 10

Scene Ten

"You're forgetting one thing before you charge into the lion's den, sweetheart. We haven't heard Karen's version of what's been going on," Helen suddenly interjected as she pulled the car onto the side. She had picked up Nikki from her place of work and had traveled some distance home when the taller woman immediately announced her plans to Helen. She was full of vim and fire and, to Helen**;** this was Nikki enthusiastically returning to the scene of past battles as much as investigating the place officially. Circumstances had led to Larkhall being sidelined, a place neither of them had wanted to return to. Both knew without saying it that their past could not be sidestepped so easily.

"I hadn't thought of that," Nikki confessed, open-mouthed. She had accepted Helen's sudden halt in their journey as perfectly normal but her words had taken her aback. This was urgent conference time.

"You know what it's like there. Surface impressions are one thing. The reality is something else and we've been out of circulation for nearly a year. We need to know, one, does Karen want our help, two, Karen's version of events and then three**… **what are we best able to do. Assuming she's seen through that bastard Fenner, she'll be the most reliable of official guides on what's going on in that snake pit. "

"So the prisoners don't matter……..," Nikki started to protest angrily, red in the face when Helen cut her short.

"Of course they bloody do, Nikki. I'm not about to throw away knowledge of the place that I learned through so much heartache and tears, all those hateful meetings where I was belittled and demeaned…..urrgh," the smaller woman said passionately, breaking off to express her disgust before verbally speeding off towards the horizon.

"I learnt very quickly that I couldn't trust the backstabbing bastards that worked for me**,** which was why I turned to you…other reasons for that**… **well I learnt as we went along," she broke off with a quick smile." You must know that when I planned to finally finish Fenner for good and all**…**I used Yvonne's help to dish the dirt on him. Everything I learned at Larkhall isn't just kept in my memory, it's inscribed in my DNA. Even in my position as boss, I treat those who work for me with real consideration and understanding. Male, female, young**,** old, straight or gay, didn't matter who they were. So believe me, Nikki, I've learned."

Nikki's expressive face was twisted with remorse for her tactlessness. This was Helen's total unvarnished truth, just as much as she had spoken this way down the years. Spiritually and emotionally, she would be revisiting Larkhall through Nikki's eyes. Above all else, she both respected and loved Helen so deeply.

"I'm really sorry, Helen. I've been an idiot. I'm just a bit wound up at the thought of going into Larkhall and wanted to get in there tomorrow while I'm all psyched up to go."

"As if I hadn't guessed that," came the warmhearted reply and the smaller woman's arm slipped inside Nikki's. "Come on, let's go home. If we really take this on, we'll be working out plan number ten while plan number nine gets shredded in the waste bin. That's how it goes in planning strategies."

Helen gestured to a takeaway and Nikki nodded assent. The evening was shaping up to be one taken on the run and was soon eaten when they got back home. They stuffed the wrappings in the bin, thinking, sod the calories, this takes priority.

"What about Karen's home phone number? It's not in the directory," said Nikki, after leafing in vain through the phone book.

"I've got Karen's phone number," exclaimed Helen triumphantly, waving a small Prison Issue notebook from the recesses of her desk drawer.

"I bet you were figuring that out as we drove back," smiled Nikki**,** and Helen grinned triumphantly in reply.

"Hi Karen, it's Helen here."

"Who's that?" came the very edgy reply. It rang immediate warning bells. She immediately recalled her abiding memory of Karen's calm and controlled exterior and contrasted that with the woman whose nerves were wound up like a tensely coiled spring.

"It's Helen. Helen Stewart, the owner of the Red Peugeot you ran into the back of six months ago who used to be your boss at Larkhall."

"Oh God. Is it really you?" came the surprisingly incredulous tones, not believing what she was hearing. Their most recent communications weren't of the best but at least both women were sincere and honest. It was that knowledge that edged the breaking tone of emotion in her voice. This version of Karen was new to Helen.

"We'd read about what's happened and wondered if you minded Nikki and I popping round as we want to help. That is, if you don't mind."

"After all the shit of the last few days, how could I mind? You won't find me at my best, I warn you."

"Nikki's been there before. She knows the score," Helen offered gently**,** only to be received by a sharp intake of breath. Instantly she regretted her words as she read Karen's frightened flash of fast moving thoughts. Nikki's arrest meant that she got life in prison and would still be there if she hadn't fought for her freedom. Karen supposedly ran down a pedestrian in cold blood so therefore she would be imprisoned, perhaps in Larkhall. After all, it was nice and handy.

"Look here, Karen, we know you didn't knock down that pedestrian and I mean every word I say. Would it help if we came round to talk about it? We're not here just to offer long distance sympathy."

The emphatic way that Helen spoke on the phone made Nikki prick up her ears and took the heat out of Karen's desperation.

"My social calendar's not exactly bulging at the seams Helen, so yes, I'd strangely like your company. One thing though, you'll have to phone me up from your mobile as soon as you're outside the house. There are journalists and photographers around. Apparently, I'm hot news," Karen finished on an acid note, veering sharply away from her previous note of weary resignation. Something in her manner disturbed Helen and Nikki could reads it on her face.

"Give us time to quickly change and we'll be right over. Oh yes, you'd better give us directions to your place," answered Helen in businesslike tones in which she intended to rally Karen's spirits. Happily, the other woman rattled out directions in what was left of her official style.

The two women quickly changed into jeans and tops and were out on the road again. Both were intrigued**,** that their journey took them in the general direction of that horrific accident. Presently, they turned off the main road and found themselves outside a modern set of flats**,** complete with a car park underneath**. **The entrance completely secure against intruders. Both women looked at each other. It immediately challenged what loose preconceptions they had of the crime.

"How in hell could someone break their way into that place? It's looks as secure as Alcatraz."

"We should await the facts and have no preconceptions," Helen pronounced as she led the way up the outside flight of steps and knocked politely twice at the door. There was a significant pause before the door opened a fraction, revealing a part of Karen's body.

"You'd better come in quick," she said in nervous tones.

The two women slipped through the door before it was swiftly shut behind them and found themselves in what had been a comfortably furnished flat. A brief glimpse of it somehow suggested a sense of disarrangement before Karen's appearance confirmed it.

"You've not seen any strangers outside."

"Not that we've noticed, Karen," Nikki urged gently.

"That's not to say that you weren't noticed. You might end up on the front page of some tabloid. It must be the first time that the phone hasn't been ringing or I've not been door stepped."

Karen's jumpy tones made Helen shift her stance from being generally open and sympathetic. They had to get Karen mentally on track. Karen was dressed in her usual suit and shirt but both of them looked as dishevelled as her makeup and her hair. More startling were the dark shadows under her eyes and the way she eyed, the half full whisky bottle.

"Karen**,** listen to me. There's nothing we can do about anyone that may or may not have been spying on us. We came to see you**,** to help, not talk about some random paparazzi. There's a lot we have to get through."

Nikki smiled faintly**,** as she let Helen's distinct crack of authority dominate the proceedings. It brought back memories and recalled to Karen that she was once her boss. Automatic habits made her defer to Helen.

"I'm really sorry**… **after you took the trouble to come over." Karen answered as she reached for a hairbrush to quickly tidy herself up. **"**Things haven't been good, especially recently."

"We didn't just want to come round to offer tea and sympathy … well your tea, yes**.**" Nikki put in with her idiosyncratic touch of sympathy. It drew a faint weary smile from Karen.

"We tailed your car that night and we saw what happened and we know for certain that it couldn't have been you behind the wheel. The driver might have looked like you but couldn't possibly be you. You have far too much respect for human life to do what that driver did. You're not perfect, no one is, but your faults are your driving…it's not too hot and you've got lousy choice in men." Helen was sure to inform her onetime subordinate.

Karen laughed bitterly, mostly at herself. Too bloody right. This was the same old Helen and it took her back to better times**. **"Still the same Helen**…** Anyway, you're right on both counts. Take a seat, both of you. Care for a drink?"

"I'm driving so no**, **but Nikki?"

"Looks like whisky or whisky. Just dilute it a bit, Karen."

The way that Karen poured a huge slug for herself, hardly diluted worried both women intensely. No sooner had Karen laid the bottle on the side and taken a swig then she started to unburden herself.

"I worked ten years of my life in hospitals trying to save lives not to take them," Karen said and then paused, a most unusual break in her voice as feelings welled to the surface that at last there was genuine, spontaneous human beings out there. She felt humbled, that both women would be kind hearted enough to take notice of her plight. Echoes of past voices haunted her. The other two women maintained a respectful silence.

'_Just watch him, Karen. He's a sly bastard ……Oh I know ……You can't see him. ……You're too close …… __He's been playing you since day one, Karen. He's a misogynist bastard. And I am sick to the bloody back teeth trying to get you to see it. So I'm done. He's all yours.'_

Finally, she shook her head to dismiss those ghost voices and interact with these real women before her.

"What are you thinking about, Karen?" that selfsame voice from the present softly asked her with infinite kindness. It came close to breaking her heart.

"If you both want to know," Karen said at last." I remember as clear as yesterday the number of times you tried to get me to see through that bastard Fenner …but the fool that I was ignored everything you said. Now I'm listening….when it's all too late."

"It's not," Helen fiercely protested." if we fight against him. The three of us are irresistible."

"You'd better listen to Helen," Nikki added quietly." There I was, banged up for life, no belief in my future and she gave me my hope back. She petitioned the Home Office to get a retrial and that got me sprung from Larkhall. When we got together on the outside, my solicitor Claire Walker put me in touch with one of the finest barristers around and the three very human guys that made up the court of appeal wiped my record clean. If that isn't miracle working, I don't know what is.**"**

Nikki's calm reassuring words had their effect on Karen. She took several huge breaths out to exhale all the tension and fearthat she'd absorbed. The words she said in a calmer tone of voice was her way of blindly feeling her way and seeing which way that took her.

"Since we had that argument about running into the back of your car, I remembered what you said about looking after the women in Larkhall. I did my best**,** but I've been up against Fenner and Di Barker who has turned out to be a real viper in the nest and has married the new Governing Governor Neil Grayling…."

"Neil Grayling, married – to a woman?" Helen laughed incredulously." I went to my one and only managers conference and I swear to God that the guy is as gay as**…** well, I don't know what."

Nikki laughed out loud at the way Helen put it and even Karen managed a wan smile, mixed with wonder how this brown**-**haired woman knew so much already.

"If it helps, I thought I'd let you know that I've tried to remedy some of my past idiocy. I received a phone call at work from this extremely dodgy solicitor. He claimed he'd traced a distant relation of yours, Nikki, who's left you a legacy and wanted to trace you. It rang warning bells to me so I played dumb."

"I have no such relative," Nikki said, white faced. "When was this call?"

"I think it was last March," Karen said slowly as her memory produced this snippet of information from her memory vaults. This was a miracle as her mental functioning felt very dubious right now.

"That was just before I went for my re**-**appeal. It must have been that bastard Frobisher at the back of it trying to find something he could use against me. He was the prosecution barrister, Karen."

"You don't have to believe everything I say, Nikki."

"I do," came that typically intense reply.

Karen sat back in her armchair in a more relaxed fashion. She sipped at her drink and offered her cigarette packet, which Nikki accepted. She looked more like the woman they'd known.

"OK, I'll tell you everything you'll want to know. All I can say is that now I know that I've missed both of you being around. Somehow, the two of you helped to hold the balance and since then, everything became wildly unbalanced. It's a long story…."

Karen started to relate the ups and downs of Larkhall life, missing no details and the two women's eyes opened wide with horror. They could identify with Karen's losing battle for control and admire the tenacity with which she'd fought the up and downs. All the time, Fenner's presence loomed large like an evil spirit, the man who had raped her, who had professed his love for her**,** while trying to weasel his way out of the consequences. It brought Larkhall back into focus for them in a horrifying fashion. Both Helen and Karen felt the venom of their final clash of words and the determination with which Karen had assembled her file together.

"There's one thing that puzzles me, Karen. I've only had a look at the outset of your flat and it looks to me that the garage doors are impregnable. Whoever stole your car**,** got access to your car keys**…** yet you said that you were here all night working on your file. I don't get it," Nikki pointed out.

"Frankly, neither do I," confessed Karen ruefully, impressed by Nikki's sharp questioning. In turn, she gave credibility to the two women. **"**The first thing I knew in the morning, was getting down to the car park and seeing the empty space where my car had been. I didn't check my car keys in advance. You both know how you set off to work on autopilot."

"Could anyone have broken in? I mean, have forensics even been round here?" Nikki questioned.

"Of course they haven't, Nikki," Karen said bitterly." I'd read your case file once, years ago and I also remembered the police blundering around when Renee Williams died. You'll remember her, Nikki. Now I know only too well what you went through and how the police zero in**,** on what they think is the answer and sod anything else that gets in the way."

The emotional force of Karen's remark struck Helen and Nikki forcibly. Karen had struck them both as a basically well-meaning woman**,** who somehow hadn't really got to the heart of what Larkhall was about. Now that she had at last caught on, they hoped it wasn't too late. They looked at each other before they carried on with their investigation.

**********

When they left Karen's flat two hours later, the two women's minds were overburdened with the enormity of the task in hand, most of all in seeking to establish Karen's innocence. They were absolutely convinced of it but they were by now well versed in the ways of the law to not see how the case was stacking up against her. They needed some time to puzzle out**, **how on earth**,** Karen's car was stolen and who did it.

Karen hugged each of them before they left as someone precious to her, some kind of lifeline amidst all the insanity of her present life. Everything that she felt certain of, that she could depend on**,** had been cruelly taken away from her. Her perception told her that this was only for starters**;** this was a curse, not a blessing. Helen and Nikki's commitment to help her and visit her soon was the only solid dependable thing she had in her life, that and the bottle of whisky on the side.


	11. Chapter 11

**Scene Eleven **

Nikki was up at the crack of dawn and was already dressed in her smartest suit by the time that Helen rolled over on her side. She was seated before the mirror, nervously adjusting her makeup. She fixed a reassuring smile to her face to try and sound calmer than she felt.

"Hope you didn't mind me not waking you up, darling. You looked so peacefully asleep that I hadn't the heart to wake you."

Helen slipped out of bed and padded over to Nikki. The smaller woman slipped her arms round the neck of her lover and her fingers slipped downwards to her breasts. Nikki felt the warmth of her lover's body against her. She breathed in deeply several times and leaned back against her. It wasn't the first time that she loved Helen for her sensitive insight into her various moods and was always there for her. "Thank you darling," she murmured unsteadily." I really am scared as hell at the thought of going into that hellhole again. What if I don't come out of there?" "I don't wonder how you feel the way you do. If I were in your shoes, I'd react the same way. You're thinking as if you're Nikki Wade prisoner. You hadn't got the friends in high places that you now have, both in your job and the barristers and judges we can count on as friends. When you meet up with our enemies, you go and tell them that the boundaries have changed and scare the hell out of them. They'll be bound to have seen you on TV or heard of you." Nikki relaxed in the feel of Helen's strength about her and all the tension evaporated out of her. "Thanks a million, babes," she answered more confidently." I owe you for this one." "You'd do the same for me anytime I needed it," Helen said calmly with total certainty. She sounded more confident than she felt as she couldn't help worrying a little for her lover**, **but she trusted to her strength and intelligence to head into the lion's den. She lightly kissed the top of Nikki's head and started to get herself ready to bus into work later.

*******

An hour and a half later, Nikki had parked their red Peugeot outside the prison gates, checking herself in the driver's mirror. She felt as if electricity flowed through her nervous system but fortunately, it made her sharp and alert rather than frightened and inhibited. She grabbed her briefcase, locked the car and strolled up to the wooden gates with all the confidence in the world. She greeted the very same PO on the gatehouse who once knew her as 'Nurse Ford' and was inwardly surprised to be treated as a visitor of some substance, the tone of respectful regret at having her briefcase searched. That alone was a huge change from once being strip searched by the DST. She was directed across the yard, as any newcomer would be. "You can get out of here whenever you want," she murmured to herself as she crossed the yard and looked up at her old cell window of the prison block as Helen had done on more than one occasion. "I'll show you up to Mr. Grayling's office. This place is a right rabbit warren for newcomers," the young PO offered helpfully**. **As soon as she got onto the wing, she saw the Julies' mouths open wide in an O shape visual question. For once, they were speechless. Nikki raised her hands expressively and smiled broadly for them to conclude that she wasn't a prisoner. Inwardly, she wondered why the Julies had both decided to get short haircuts but she supposed she would find the answer. "See you later," she mouthed back at them.

"You haven't been here before," the PO said. He was young and naïve and Nikki murmured a reply. Typical Larkhall 'cockup, she thought, but she couldn't in all conscience take the piss out of him. Besides, her sense of professionalism forbade her.

As soon as she entered the door, she half expected Helen to be behind the desk. She spotted the smart suited man, arm outstretched, cold charm personified.

"Ah yes, Ms Wade, we are looking forward to your visit," he lied in clear tones. **"**Take a seat. You will find that this prison has got on board all kinds of forward thinking radical ideas that stand up to any scrutiny. We have, of course, mapped out an itinerary of all the wings and one of my most experienced wing governor to show you around if you wish,"

Grayling offered with just that kind of salesman's smile.

"Actually, I've decided on a more in depth survey of one sample wing, G wing."

"Is that wise? I know of course of your previous incarceration. Won't you find it a little embarrassing," Grayling coaxed, his smile wobbling noticeably.

"I am the one and original Nikki Wade. I don't embarrass easily. In my time, I have socialized with everyone from prostitutes to high court judges. I'm sure all your staff is competent and professional to deal with me. I am bound by the same unwritten code of professionalism as your staff is. I'm not going to kick off, obviously."

'_Damn the woman'_, Grayling fumed inwardly at her bright smile. _'She's way too smart to be safe. She's as bad as Karen Betts and that Helen Stewart as well'_, judging from the memory of the one manager's conference they had both attended. As the meeting went on, Nikki found Grayling a slippery customer, expert in the art of evasion and half-truths but her persistent question extracted from him more than he cared to admit and all got noted down in her memory, ready to be written up.

She soon bumped into Di Barker, wearing her brand new grey two-piece suit, down turned mouth and suspicious expression.

"Come to my office, Nikki and I'll show you the ropes," she said in her coaxing manner.

"It would only duplicate what Neil Grayling told me, Di and anyway, I'd rather you showed me round the wing," Nikki politely but firmly insisted.

"Just as you will. Your old mates will be in danger of wanting you to get you the key of the jailhouse door," Di grumped.

"How do you find stepping into Karen Betts' shoes, or come to think of that, Helen Stewart's?" countered Nikki.

"I'll show you the PO's room first. You'll want to see them,' came the spiteful reply to which Nikki smiled nonchalantly.

A kaleidoscope of past memories of those uniforms whirled round with the present situation as Nikki politely introduced herself.

"Ah Wade. We wondered if you were coming to spy on us."

"Call me Nikki," the taller woman replied silkily, offering her outstretched hand to Bodybag. **"**Of course, I'll report as I find and I'll be scrupulously honest and fair."

The mild mannered words had the effect on Bodybag of a whiplash across the face and Nikki ruthlessly dissected practices and attitudes as only she knew how with her expert background. Di's strategy born of spite had seriously backfired.

"Ah, Jim Fenner," Nikki finally exclaimed as a well-remembered face came into view. It turned to solid stone and his eyes turned glassy blue at the sight of her." We've met before. Your colleagues will no doubt bring you up to speed on what we've discussed. Now I'm done here, I want to talk to the prisoners," Nikki interjected, stealing Di Barker's lines, much to her irritation.

"Not many of your old chums are still here, Wade."

"Nikki, if you please. I intend to start with Yvonne Atkins. I know she's still here."

"That's not possible."

"And why?"

"She's down the block."

"So where's the problem? Do I have to name and shame you in my report to my boss in the Howard League for Penal Reform?" Nikki cut back with deadly quietness.

Too late, Fenner realized that Nikki was no longer his prisoner. He hadn't properly adjusted to her present position and her perfectly articulated tones had the knack of scaring him. He had only just got over the adrenaline surge of breaking into Karen's flat, stealing her car and killing a pedestrian**, **only to return to normal at Larkhall prison when that bitch turned up. Her presence really wound him up**, **but his ingrained soldier training kept his mouth shut.

"I'll get one of the PO's to volunteer for escort duty."

"I'll do it," Colin Hedges jumped in.

"You're wanted for a job I've got for you," snarled Fenner as much as office etiquette allowed. The younger man looked nervous, downcast and more than a little afraid of the glowering presence of the Principal officer. Di Barker was unable to find her voice while Nikki looked on at the scene with fascinated horror. This woman was no Helen Stewart. She was a usurper. A chilly silence hung on the air. No one said anything until Nikki finally forced the issue.

"Well, someone's going to have to escort me," she said brightly with a mocking gaze. Finally, Fenner muttered the name of Selena Geeson, the very young, smartly dressed blond woman with carefully combed hair and wearing a neat, knee length skirt.

"Right, locks bolts and bars. Smiley faces everyone," Di Barker intoned with a feeble attempt at demonstrating control of the situation. Everyone knew where they had to go, anyway.

Selena Geeson led her onto the wing and down the well remembered flight of steps down to the segregation block. It was as she remembered except that in times past, she had been**,** manhandled**,** by two burly PO**'**s. This woman was clearly new to the prison service, which was why she was chosen, Nikki thought cynically.

"Why is Jim Fenner so seriously hostile to you, Nikki? It seems more than you being from what he sees as a liberal minded prison welfare organization."

The taller woman laughed. "Believe it or not Selena, I was a lifer here for stabbing the policeman who was trying to rape my girlfriend. I'm here after getting a clean record, a university degree while I was here, and some far sighted guy having the intelligence to see that I made the obvious choice as a researcher."

Nikki noticed straight off**,** that the blond woman didn't blink at Nikki's frank confession of her sexuality.

"I'll wait on duty outside just in case there's any trouble," advised Selena lightly. The woman was no fool, judged Nikki, and the other woman opened the door and let her in.

"I must be tripping or something," croaked Yvonne's unmistakable voice from out of the gloom," You can't be Nikki Wade."

As the dark haired woman's eyes got used to the gloom, she picked out the woman tied up in strips, her hair disarranged and spiky and her face bare of any makeup. Nikki knew well enough not to burden Yvonne with a load of overdone concern. She knew that all Yvonne wanted was for Nikki to be real with her and maybe conceal half a ton of gelignite to spring her out of this hellhole but that was pushing it a bit.

"Don't worry, Yvonne, I'm a reformed character, a distinguished visitor- at least someone they are too shit scared to keep out."

"No matter how posh a git you are on the outside, Nikki, you'll never sell us out."

"I work for the Howard League for Penal Reform and I've got a particular interest, especially with what I know**,** has been going on down here. I mean Karen Betts."

A wide smile of relief spread across Yvonne's face as she saw how clued up her old friend was. It brought out the bottled up emotions that she had suppressed along with her growing fears of never getting out of this hellhole. Nikki's sudden presence from the outside world brought it all home.

"I've missed you, Nikki. You've been in my dreams from time to time. The Julies, Babs and Denny mean everything to me**…** but there ain't been anyone as strong and smart as you. I have to do everything all my own bleeding self "

"Aah, I never knew you cared for me that way," teased Nikki, **"**You should have told me when I was here."

Their tone of voice veered from mocking banter to lurking affection. A wealth of past experiences lay between them. It was Nikki who snapped them back to the present.

"I'm here on official work so I don't have too much time to carry on a bit of private investigation. Just how did Karen get stitched up? What in hell has happened here since Helen and I left? I've heard enough official shit from Grayling and Di Barker. I want to know the real truth."

"What's happened……?" said Yvonne vaguely, as the months of nightmare spread across her mind. Then everything came back to her, the rule by that uncertainly matched duo, Grayling and Fenner and Karen's long sustained losing battle to fight her corner. She explained in bitter tones how Karen was finally undone by the dead wasp sting by that fake American prisoner, Snowball Merriman who left that lying letter to drop Karen in the shit before finally topping herself. Somehow, the world had slid out of kilter, the uncertain balance removed. Nikki gulped with feelings of guilt when it came home to her that she and Helen had been that balance. She never knew how much difference they made until today.

Yvonne rapidly described her shaky alliance with the alternately, weak, lovelorn and spiteful Colin Hedges, whose courage had leaked out of him thanks to that spike in his arm into which his heroin flowed. She had been similarly dependent on Tina O'Kane, plump, naïve, trusting, self-hating but none too smart. In no time at all, Nikki had the measure of everything that had happened in this hellhole.

"Oh yeah, Hedges told me that Grayling told him that Karen's file had been put through the shredder at area and he should back off with his charge if he knows what's good for him. I think that'll scare the shit out of him. And another, Hedges told me that two witnesses saw a blonde at the wheel of Betts' car and, oh yeah, Fenner's put the frighteners on Tina."

"Jesus, the bastards are having it all their way," exclaimed Nikki in disgust.

"So that's why we want you to perform bloody miracles on the outside. No use you wishing you were back here and fighting the bastards. Don't be a bloody fool, Nikki**…** you sort it out on the outside. You either do it legal or I get my Lauren to arrange a pizza delivery. I mean it."

Nikki's mouth opened at Yvonne's dark hints. Her instant reaction born of her time spent in the outside world and out of Larkhall was to find that shocking. As she meditated over the matter, yes, she could see Yvonne's point and it was down to her to think of a better alternative.

"No, Yvonne, we've got to do this legally. I'm not so soft in the head to trust in the police investigation, far from it. We need a private detective we can trust, the best in the business. Someone like your Lauren would do the trick." Nikki insisted firmly and rapidly, steamrollering over Yvonne's obvious opposition.

Yvonne gazed at Nikki with a faraway look in her eyes as she chewed the idea over in her mind.

"Nice idea, Nikki but Lauren ain't the kind to cosy up to the police …."

"Well, can you think of anyone else?"

"Now I come to think about it, my sister's daughter Shirley might do the trick."

"You never told me about her."

"I fell out with her as she grew up the poor but honest type. When I took up with Charlie, I became too much of a flash git for her taste and pissed her off. She knew he was bent and it made things kind of strained between us. Still, blood's thicker than water and after Charlie was…put out of the picture…we started to make friends. I guess she was kind of sorry for the way I'd been landed in the shit. I'd always had a soft spot for her Shirley who grew up to be a private detective."

"What's she like?"

"Deep down, she's a chip off the old block, same as Lauren and me. She's got that same nose for finding things out except that she's stayed the right side of the law. She's got Lauren's class."

"You write down how I'm supposed to contact her."

While Yvonne scribbled down details, the taller woman created a mental picture of this woman. This was only too easy.

A little while later, she looked at her watch and realized that time wasn't on her side. It had flown past even as they talked urgently and rapidly. Neither woman**,** were inclined to beat about the bush even if time were on their side.

"Gotta go, Yvonne," Nikki said with all the regret in the world. She'd heard those words before and now knew how Helen once felt. The other woman grabbed her in a big hug as if she didn't want to let go. This disproved her theory that eternally straight women like Yvonne could never hug another woman with such fierce emotion. Come to think of it, she felt choked up inside.


	12. Chapter 12

Scene Twelve

"Right, Dr Nicholson, let me introduce myself. I'm Nikki Wade of the Howard League for Penal Reform. You should know that I'm here to do some research and this prison has been selected. Obviously, I'm particularly interested in the medical care provided here," Nikki said in her crispest manner and wearing her brightest smile," I would be grateful if you could fill me in on your qualifications for dealing with psychological as well as physical illnesses. That applies for both you and your staff. What access do you have to NHS resources in both these areas?" "Who are you to come barging in here?" Dr Nicholson said suspiciously and aggressively. "I have written authorization to come here and ask these questions. If you refuse to cooperate, I'll be reporting it accordingly."

"I oversee the workings of the specialized psychological unit that serves all the wings while I am based on the medical center dealing largely with normal aches and pains. Of course, we have to be careful with the drug addicts who can be very convincing to the layman in trying to con us out of prescription drugs," came the cold patronizing reply.

"You're talking about the 'Muppet wing'." Nikki said brightly.

"That is a scandalous lie. I don't know what gutter language you picked up, but if you carry on that way, I'll make a complaint to your superior."

Nikki looked at the man contemptuously at his lowering air of bulldog aggression. Him and Fenner were two of a kind except that, beneath the surface, this man was spineless and incompetent. She wondered how in hell he was re-employed by the prison service, after Helen and Karen had got rid of him.

"So why is it called that by the inmates?"

"We get used to all kinds of abuse. It comes with the job description."

Nikki let that one go and shifted to another point of attack. "Correct me if I am wrong… but didn't your predecessor Dr Thomas Waugh introduce a far reaching set of reforms, which linked medical prison records with NHS records on the outside?"

"I do recall the name. I inherited a load of useless red tape. Needless to say, I got rid of it all."

"You know, women here do have a history on the outside. You could gain access to it if you wanted. It would give you something to go on rather than blindly feel your way."

"You're just some college educated, politically correct interfering busybody. I bet you've never seen anything of real life. We see everything here and I back my years of experience against all your fancy theories."

"Zandra Plackett, eh?" Nikki replied, her voice as cold as ice, her eyes dancing with restrained anger. All her memories flooded back to fire her up with rage against this useless man." I was in the 4-bed dorm and saw her collapse and die of a brain tumour. With all your big talk of 'your years of experience', you messed up, diagnosing her condition, till it was far too late. And there's bound to be others. Pamela Jolly for instance?"

"Just who are you? You can't have been here before?" said Dr No**-**No incredulously, as Nikki shifted her vocal style from the correct and professional to something like her 'street talk' style. He screwed up his eyes to remember who she might be. He wasn't good at remembering names as they all meant the same to him and that was very little unless they crossed him personally. He was further agitated. The depth of knowledge that this woman conveyed shook him, along with the patented sarcastic thrust, that Nikki had borrowed off George, and most of all, by her restrained but lethal anger. He was looking forward to a cushy life without that troublemaker Betts around to rock the boat and now, another dangerous woman turns up to haunt him.

"Don't you remember, Dr No**-**No? I used to be a lifer till I got out on appeal and got my record clean. Who better than me to research this place? Still, I'm lucky to have kept well while I've been here and out of your hands. There are those less lucky than me and for this reason… I've got such a lot of questions to ask you. I mean to get some answers."

Nikki was amazed how rapidly this man cowered before her as her anger boiled over. It was true what she'd heard that a bully is just an angry coward. Once he was matched against someone who could stand up to him, he crumpled up and was now clearly intent on saving his own skin. Her relentless questioning was payback time.

************

Nikki had got her official business done and dusted in quicker time than she had expected and the pressure was off her. She thought she would spend a little time on the wing and the prospect made her a little nervous. This was once her old stomping ground in more ways than one and yet she was just another outside visitor. She knew it and her engrained memories told her that the Julies for two, were highly sensitive souls who would both know this and generously do their best to paper over the cracks. She was a little nervous and unsure of herself.

"Hey Nikki. Great to see you back. Come and have a cup of tea." Julie Saunders exclaimed loudly and Julie Johnson echoed "….to see you back."

Automatically, Nikki reached for a blue plastic mug and Julie Johnson looked apologetically at the taller woman. She seemed incredibly sophisticated in her smart suit and shirt. Both women felt at a disadvantage in their skimpy tops and short skirts that had been through the prison washing machines too many times.

"I'm afraid it's the usual stewed tea in the urn. I'd make a fresh lot if you want."

"Don't worry, Julies. I'll have it as it comes. I'm not too proud to muck in. I'm not the bloody Queen. If you're free, let's take a drink over here."

Nikki's warm tones had a calming, reassuring effect on them. She sounded a bit 'posher' than they remembered but she was still the same mate of theirs. Both women beamed at her and poured themselves a cup each. They felt comfortable chatting to Nikki even if Fenner was glaring impotently over at them. Both women were sure that he'd look for the slightest chance to tell them to get on with their jobs, but he daren't, any more than if Nikki was still here as a prisoner.

"You look fantastic in that suit of yours. Dead classy."

"I was wondering if you'd still remember me. I've been away from here nearly a year," Nikki smiled.

"Forget you? Not after all you've done for us and not after seeing you on the telly. We was cheering like mad when we saw you let Fenner have it good and proper. We saw you when that bastard of a copper was shown up for who he was. I always wished I'd have the gift of the gab what you always had," Julie Saunders said enthusiastically.

"You ain't changed since you got on the outside, Nikki even if you think you have. We know what's on your mind," Julie Johnson said with incredible warmth.

Unexpectedly, Nikki felt emotions welling up from deep within her soul and she felt tears in her eyes. Unexpected kindness always had that effect on her. She wasn't to know that Julie Saunders was suffering with breast cancer and in a roundabout way, this explained their new haircuts.

"Hey love, you can't spoil your makeup," Julie Johnson said in her kindest tone of voice.

"I remember what you said ages ago to Monica when she got out, 'Everyone who gets out of here gets out for all of us.' Those were your very words, Nikki." Julie Saunders declared. This shook the taller woman. She was taken back to that moment in time and she knew that she had meant every word that she said. What bothered her was what she'd done since she'd got out.

"Your trouble, Nikki, is that whatever you do, you don't think you're doing enough. It means you'll keep on trying to do bleeding miracles, but it makes you unhappy when you shouldn't be. It's only right that you should be on the outside. Me, well ending up in the nick, is like, an occupational hazard. Just didn't know it would turn out to be so bleeding long, that's all."

Nikki was troubled by the brief downcast expression on the other woman's face and realized that her bright and breezy exterior was just as much a mask as what she could conjure up by way of makeup.

"Hey, never mind about us. Want to hear all the latest gossip?" Julie Saunders asked as if it were the old days. Nikki eagerly nodded her agreement.

******

It was a little while later when Denny came out of her room. She rubbed her eyes with disbelief. She wondered about quickly hearing when Julie Saunders shouted out to her.

"Guess who's here? Nikki Wade."

"You ain't got into more trouble, man?" Denny asked with an anxious expression on her face. In her experience, this was the only reason anyone who got out of Larkhall ever came back there, like Crystal for instance.

"Course she's not. She's working for this Howard something or other to investigate this dump and do a report on it."

"You need to come back to find out what it's like at this dump, man?" Denny asked with an expression of incredulity on her face." You were here long enough and you're smart enough to know better."

"I wanted to refresh my memory, Denny," Nikki said, grinning from ear to ear. Denny's inimitable turn of phrase came back from the recesses of her memory.

"Well I hope you tell it like it is Nikki," Barbara said enthusiastically. She had heard the conversation and that tone of voice that had always bucked her spirits and had enjoyed a rapturous reunion with her hold friend. She proudly told Nikki of her future with Henry and received a reply with that typical sensitivity and understanding.

"Like you're going to forget? Is this dump ever going to get any better?" came Denny's affectionately cynical reply.

"I just want to be sure and get up to date on what's going on," Nikki said softly.

"So you heard what's going down here?"

"From the best authorities," Nikki said, slipping back so easily into that oblique language of those who are forever overheard, who had lost that privacy that Nikki had taken for granted.

"That's good, man. Want to see my paintings while you're here?"

"She's dead brilliant, Nikki. Only I'd warn you, some of the paintings are, well, a bit grim and, well, sad." Julie Johnson interjected, in her most comically naïve tone of voice.

"I'd love to see them," Nikki said eagerly.

"Come on, we'll be stuffing envelopes in a bit."

********

Nikki came out of the 4-bed dorm where Denny's paintings had been hung, terrifically impressed by the stark, moody pieces. They weren't easy on the eye and weren't meant to be. She marvelled that a woman, whom she'd always thought was verbally limited, was so expressive in another form. They had that primitive feel about them that was all the more powerful for it and spoke volumes of her damaged life. She'd always watched Nikki with great uncertainty, feeling obviously intimidated by Nikki's intellect, not to know how Nikki had always taken that for granted. When Nikki fervently expressed her appreciation of Denny's work, she looked like a pleased little girl, the center of attention at her birthday party. It had made Denny's day. Nikki compared this reality with what she read of prison conditions and she renewed her vow to herself, to avoid seeing prisoners as merely academic objects of concern. She was highly conscious that she shouldn't just look up her old mates, emotionally satisfying though it might be**.** So she strolled up the staircase to the 3's, in her old footsteps. It was in this curiously nostalgic frame of mind that she decided to look in at her own cell. The door was left slightly open and Nikki delicately slid the door open, figuring that the cell should be open at this time of the day. Immediately, the sight of Selena Geeson rocketing backwards off the bunk where a blond haired prisoner was sitting confronted her. Nikki blushed faintly at the total incongruity of this experience. It crossed her mind that history was the supreme exponent of irony and this was a total masterpiece. How many times had either Dominic or Karen intruded into tender moments between her and Helen in such a way?

"What the frigging hell are you doing, barging into my cell?" shouted an angry voice.

Nikki took in this woman in a flash. She wore jeans with low-slung side pockets in the entirely appropriate cut of combat trousers as she had that seethingly angry persona. She was slim built and her blond hair was raggedly cut. By contrast, Selena Geeson was embarrassed and nervous**,** surprising for her self**-**possessed personality. It hit Nikki with the force of a sledgehammer that this prisoner wasn't a million miles from the woman that she used to be. It made her more conciliatory than she might have been otherwise.

"I'm ever so sorry for barging in as you say. The fault is entirely mine."

"Just who are you?" this blond prisoner asked, her aggressiveness hardly diminished by the apology.

"Kris, this is Nikki Wade. I met her earlier on. She's all right, I promise you."

"Nikki who?" questioned Kris Yates, her blue eyes still glaring at her.

"I don't expect everyone I meet for the first time to fall at my feet and ask for my autograph," responded Nikki in dry ironic and very precise tones," so I'll introduce myself. A number of years ago, I ran a lesbian bar with my then girlfriend. Trouble was, this copper with one screwed up mind kept hanging round till one night, I came to pick her up and found him on the point of raping her. I took him out with a broken bottle**,** became a hated figure in the tabloid press, and got life for it. I was here three years till a very intelligent and understanding wing governor saw through my 'hard case' act and got me to appeal my sentence. When I got on the outside, I found that I could only get some lowly office job so I re**-**appealed and got my sentence wiped clean. It prompted me to give back in return for what I'd been given. I got a job with the Howard League of Penal Reform to try and keep some the shit off the prisoners that bastards in smooth suits will land on you. I figured out that for all my research, I was rather out of touch with what was really going on. So I've come here."

"What about your old mates? They'll really love to see you swanning around this dump and then head off back to your cushy home," sneered Kris.

"I've talked to them. They understand. You talk to the Julies, to Denny and Yvonne if you don't believe me."

The last name really took the wind out of Kris's sails. For all her cocky manner, this woman secretly impressed her. She was tough and sounded as if she knew what she was talking about.

"Yvonne Atkins? Who are you kidding? She's down the block."

"Selena will back me up. She was on escort duty."

The blond PO nodded in agreement and Kris's eyes switched back and forth from her lover to this very formidable woman.

"My advice to you, Selena is be very careful. This dump is dangerous, much more so than in my time. There are bad guys on the loose. If any of them had come in here instead of me, you'd really be in the shit. The last thing you need is to be fired from your job."

"Meaning Fenner," Kris said, eyeing Nikki with growing respect, she maintained a discreet silence. This woman was holding something back and that she ought to keep her mouth shut**,** rather than ask too many questions. She'd been kissing Selena passionately and had slid her hand hungrily up her lover's skirt just when the knock on her cell door made her jump out of her skin. She realized that she was stroppy also because felt gauche and unsophisticated compared with this woman.

"I hope your researches go well….Nikki."

"Don't worry, they will. I've learnt a lot, which I'll put to good use. I'm pushing off**…** so I'll leave you to your personal officer interview," Nikki said softly. This reminded Kris that Nikki knew exactly what had been going on.

********

"Jesus Christ, what a day I've had," exclaimed Nikki as she fell into Helen's arms and clung onto her. The feel of her lover's body against hers put her in contact with the one sure thing around her. "My head feels like it's exploding. Still, I've got some ideas out of it. " "You tell me about it when you're ready, sweetheart. I've got the dinner on and a nice chilled bottle of wine in the fridge." "That sounds lovely babes," Nikki sighed as cooking smells wafted in her direction." If you don't mind, I must lock myself away with the computer and write up what I've found." "Both official and unofficial," added Helen with a knowing look. "I've been there as you well know." Nikki nodded. What was extraordinary was that she was back home in their comfortable flat and didn't feel guilty that her old friends has the high calorie pie and chips for their evening meal, washed down by stale tea. They'd put her mind at rest to that extent. All that remained was to commit her observations to print. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Scene Thirteen **

As the day wore on, the pressures inside Karen's head made her seriously start to wonder about her sanity. For all the ups and downs in her life, this was one part of her life that she had never, ever thought to question. The intensity of her feelings was such that she was finding it increasingly difficult to put into words.

She shoved to the back of her mind**, **the prospect of being tried for the death of a man**,** she had never seen before in her life. It was a long way away, outside her control and something she dared not think about. She found very soon that being abruptly severed from her daily routines of running G-wing seriously destabilised her, as she was condemned to having no routines at all. On top of that, she knew far too well that her salary cheques from the Home Office and her comfortable lifestyle were due to run out after the end of September. She really ought to start checking round letting agencies**,** for some modest flat to live in**,** but only some paralysis of will held her back. Her nice sporty green MG sports car was already denied her, as it was locked up in some police pound awaiting the trial. She felt as if she had all the troubles of the world on her shoulders yet at the same time, there was nothing she do to could engage her brain. Better by far her life as a busy wing governor with the most difficult problem imaginable, even trying to negotiate with a deranged Shell Dockley locking herself in her cell, clutching a broken bottle and threatening to stab Jim………. At once, her mind reeled away from the rest of the comparison as it took her to areas of her life that she couldn't face.

She was highly conscious that not one prison officer had called her to ask her how she was going on. She hardly expected her enemies to phone her, that spiteful witch, Di Barker, that self centred careerist Neil Grayling nor that monument to narrow mindedness Sylvia Hollamby. It was the others, those whose jobs she'd gone out on a limb for when she'd helped scupper that mad privatisation project. She couldn't help but think that it was either the old saying 'out of sight, out of mind' or that they were simply too scared to make contact, thinking that they'd be next in line for the chop. It wasn't especially wicked of them to feel that way, but it depressed her and made her seriously doubt her faith in humanity.

The only bright shining light amidst her despair was the inexpressible kindness of Helen and Nikki. Even if they had tailed her car and witnessed the hideous accident, they could have gone off home and left it at that – they needn't have 'got involved.' That modern urban expression depressed and disgusted her as it ran counter to her first profession as a nurse and the way she interpreted her second profession. Yet both women rallied round her even if her past behaviour to Helen had hardly earned such compassion. For all that, it wasn't until over a week after she had been interviewed by the police that Karen finally got round to engaging the solicitor that Helen had told her about. Without their help she was sure she wouldn't have acted at all. Their kindness to her made her feel incredible swell of emotions that raised up inside her.

After finding the phone number, she deliberated for ages before making the call, something that she would have otherwise decided on and done in a matter of seconds.

*******

Jim Patterson was grinning all over his face when he got the tip off about the next high profile case that was coming their way. It was an obvious no hoper. This so called respectable prison governor had gone home, hit the bottle, took off in her car in some random expedition, knocked down an innocent pedestrian, panicked and was pulled in by the police at her very own prison. She was apparently working out her notice after being sacked so that explained the whole thing. She had supposedly spent the evening at home which meant she hadn't got a shred of an alibi. That high and mighty Claire Walker was getting too big for her boots so that she had got to thinking that she could perform endless miracles. This case looked ideal for her to finally overreach herself and fall flat on her face. He would be only too happy to palm it off on her.

"Of course, Claire, I know that you love high profile cases and helping the downtrodden, so the Crown versus Karen Betts should be right up your street. She was asking for you in particular so you'll have the chance to work your normal miracle and surprise us all."

"Well, I can only do my best," Claire said non committally. Her first immediate thought was to keep an open mind and not to get locked into other people's preconception of the case.

"We're all right behind you, Claire," the man said in his most irritating fashion." _Yeah, they're behind her all right__,_ she thought bitterly…._so they'll run for cover and she'll take the heat if anything goes wrong. _

"Thanks," Claire said shortly." I'd better see Karen Betts as soon as possible and get this show on the road."

Jim Patterson's smile faded slightly, as Claire made a determined exit from their conversation back to her own room.

******

"I suppose you don't think I've got a cat's chance in hell," Karen said in despondent tones after she had recounted her version of the events. She reached feverishly for a cigarette and lit it. She handed out the packet, which Claire politely declined.

"I don't underestimate the seriousness of your situation for one moment," Claire said. She knew very well that she had the delicate task of being honest yet not to cast her client into the depths of despair. She could tell that Karen Betts had a naturally strong and resilient personality. From what Claire had understood of Helen in the same position, it was obvious that Karen had carried on the lonely burden of fighting for the same beliefs for months. The overwhelming shock of recent events had taken all the fight out of her. What was certain was that this woman was telling her the plain and simple truth but there was a lot that was yet to be explained. Getting to the bottom of that wasn't going to be easy.

"You haven't mentioned the duty solicitor when you were interviewed by the police," Claire said casually. She was hardly intending a question as she made the perfectly natural assumption.

"What duty solicitor?" Karen asked with a blank look on her face till the thought connected. Recounting her story had started to get her brain into gear and now she marvelled. How on earth she hadn't challenged the progress of the interview when she did. She had heard tales of how this had happened to prisoners in her care and hadn't understood how come they had meekly let the police do their worst to them. These stories didn't square with the pushy and obstreperous prisoners in their care. She could never figure out this discrepancy. Now she knew. She shook her head disbelievingly, reading Claire's very kind-hearted pity on her face. That reality only made her feel worse**,** as she never took well to being pitied. She answered in a very edgy, defensive tone of voice.

"It does happen you know, that in a situation like this, you get momentarily flustered. I wasn't feeling myself, you know, what with being bundled out of my own wing in full view of everyone as if I were a common criminal which I wasn't."

"Listen Karen, what you did is perfectly understandable. I've been involved in a lot of criminal cases and I've seen how ordinarily competent people don't think straight when questioned, " Claire urged. Her tone of voice was initially soothing and reassuring. As she started talking, her feelings of rage spilled over at the sloppy attitude displayed by the police. Offering the suspect a duty solicitor was in the basic ABC of police investigations.

"……You were never offered legal representation as you should have been. What's really bothering me is that this fits into systematic pattern of serial abuse of human rights. Let's put it another way, Larkhall police station has got form."

The blond haired woman's eyes opened wide with shock. She had enough troubles of her own it didn't make her feel any better to know that she was just another victim of injustice as opposed to being especially singled out to be victimised. Claire saw that her new client wasn't really taking the information all in.

"Nikki has visited Larkhall on a tour of inspection and has told me everything she's seen and heard. She missed nothing out, especially a long talk she had with Yvonne who was down the block." Claire informed her client.

Claire's last casual words jolted Karen back to the present. As she went on to tell her story, the blond haired woman was caught in two minds. On the one hand, the double recitation of events was rendered faultlessly but on the other hand, it didn't help her direct problems. Her mind started racing forwards impatiently ahead of the story so that she wasn't properly listening. Putting her hands to either side of her head, she cut Claire short.

"It's really nice of you, Nikki and Yvonne to be concerned about my welfare**…** but it doesn't get us anywhere. I feel I'm in a boat without a paddle heading down the river towards Niagara falls and there's sod all I can do about it. All I see are well-wishers on either side of the riverbank while I go over the edge. I'm sorry Claire but I get the feeling that we're going round and round in circles and getting nowhere fast."

Claire didn't feel that Karen was the woman who could be comforted by a hug and to be told, everything was going to be all right. The other woman's mental circuits just weren't wired that way, though perhaps deep down, she could do with being physically comforted. She chose instead to give the intellectual comfort of leaving the best news to the end.

"You're right, we've got as far as we can get. That's why Yvonne suggested to Nikki that we engage the professional services of her niece, Shirley Cheetham. She's a private investigator and my experience is that she's about the best in her field."

This news set Karen's mind buzzing and she fractionally felt normal again to make the first decision in her life after what felt like a lifetime. Her first instinct was that she wanted to be part of the deliberations. She wasn't put off by the idea of a member of Yvonne's family being involved, rather the opposite. She'd connived with Yvonne to sabotage Grayling's attempt to privatise the prison and had been relaxed about the protest demonstration. As her traditional sense of official proprieties had become an unnecessary luxury, Yvonne's particular version of the irregular and underground was a positive attraction especially as her situation was so bloody desperate.

********

A parallel scene took place in Yvonne's cell. Right after Nikki's visit, Yvonne had mysteriously been released from segregation with no satisfactory explanation. She'd been equally mysteriously escorted down the block for allegedly 'swearing at an officer' that being Jim Fenner but in reality, she had made the mistake of being in his way. It wasn't anything she hadn't said to him before. That event had served notice that Karen Betts' arrest took away the last obstacle to wide scale injustice. The way this dump was now being run had quickly lost any last semblance of rhyme or reason. Chicago gangsters might just as well have been let loose in prison uniforms only they didn't kill people with Sten guns. Things were as bad as that.

The days that Yvonne had been banged up had taken it out of her. She'd been shut away from human company with only her dark thought to keep her company. She's been deprived of the opportunity to know what was going on around her, something of critical importance in dangerous times like these and something that made her feel grounded. Nikki's visit was such a miracle that had come from out of the blue and she couldn't believe how good it was to know that someone really cared. She didn't like to think of how she'd feel without that help. She'd been on her own long enough to know that her unshakeable self-confidence wasn't an automatic fact of life. Now she was back with her mates like Babs, the Julies and Denny, she felt better about herself and the only downside was the opportunity for their enemies to spy on her. All in all, she was doing her best to keep up her spirits, and wasn't it her bad luck when Hedges came along with all his woes.

"I wanna get close to you, Yvonne but you keep shutting me out. I can't stand it with Fenner breathing down my neck every moment. Grayling has told me to back off and I know he's winding me up about that statement I wrote. I just never thought it would come to this."

"You know what, I can smell your cowardice on your breath," Yvonne said scornfully." I told you, we've got help on the outside that's legal. You must remember what Nikki's like."

"That's all very well but she is on the outside, a long way away from here. I need some sort of guarantee," whined Colin Hedges.

Yvonne rolled her eyes heavenwards and just about restrained herself from blasting him with the full force of her sarcastic wit. _There are no guarantees except in the grave, hadn't his bloody mother ever told him that?_ She was tempted to snap back in those terms before biting back her tongue. She'd met too many pathetic junkies in her life and she knew how weak they were**.** She knew that only the needle gave them the sort of guts, like that of every woman who had it tough and needed something just to survive, inside or outside jail. She thought of the Julies whose mothering instincts had to be long distance, too many wasted years spent apart from their kids. She knew that their 'all merry and bright' manner concealed their hurt with which they lived with every minute of the hour somewhere in their consciousness. Her innate sense of realism told her that all this might be bloody true; she had to work with what she had. Like it or lump it, she had to keep this shaky ally on side.

"Colin, it's like this. You can't think just of all that hearts and flowers stuff without what goes with all this shit. You need to be strong, for yourself, for Karen and for me. If you do that, well**…**who knows?" she finished with an inviting smile.

That lovelorn look crept back on Colin Hedges' face and, most important, it lit that spark of courage in him. She sensed that if she blew it and Fenner pulled the strings on him right, Hedges could so easily drift into his orbit. He knew too much about for her for her liking. Yvonne heaved a sigh of relief as she let him kiss and cuddle her as much as was possible in a dump like this. This wasn't the most brilliant sexual experience she'd had in her life but everything in her life right now made her feel grateful for the barest crumbs that fell her way off life's dining table.


	14. Chapter 14

**Scene Fourteen **

"Whatever goes on in our lives in working our arses off in our jobs and helping out our friends, Friday night is somehow special in letting our hair down, right," Nikki observed as they drove home from work with the whole weekend to look forward to. The nights were starting to draw in a bit and leaves on the trees were turning brown but the weather was still sunny and warm.

"You mean, we need time for ourselves? Fancy going out to Chix?" Helen asked.

"That's the general idea. We've not been there lately**.**"

On Friday evenings, they always flopped down on the living room sofa and cuddled up against each other to relax from the tiredness of the week's work. Though the best part of the evening, as always, was showering, this washed the harshness of the week's work through their systems and provided that erotic spicing of the pleasures of life which both women loved so much. Getting made up and dressed up gave them the chance to be whoever they wanted to be, especially as they passed through the emotional front door of 'Chix.' They always mentally stretched their limbs as they came to feel themselves as wholly real. It was as if the rest of the time, they felt that they had to be on their best behaviour as if for invisible parents. Of course, they were nicely settled into their jobs and felt comfortable but there was always something just that bit constrained in how they behaved. It wasn't as if they wanted to get drunk and become loud and boorish. All they wanted was that their skin fitted normally on them.

******

Trisha and Sally Anne greeted them in their own effusive fashion just at the point when the club was starting to fill up. Both women felt as if life was pulsing through them in time with the music, and that they were renewed.

"You look as if you'd always been here, Sally," Nikki generously praised her.

"I feel more confident than I ever thought I'd be. Trisha is good to work with if you don't mind me saying."

"Of course you can. You've every right to say so. You and Trisha look good together."

Nikki's knack of emotional honesty in words as clear as a mountain stream was very endearing to Sally-Anne. Nikki did feel that nostalgia for the times when she and Trisha were building up the club together from those first regulars who gave them some measure of loyalty and friendship. That belonged to another era to a person who was somehow other than the one who stood in her shoes. She wasn't one to consider that the grass was greener on the other side of the hill or the hill she had once stood on.

"I feel so much better. There's nothing like the love of a good woman."

"You're talking about me, naturally," Helen put in, mischievously pretending to be the center of attention. Her eyes were gleaming and her manner was excited and ready to party.

"You, sweetheart and every other woman who's been truly loved," Nikki said in a deeply affectionate tone of voice, gesturing to the dance floor, which was starting to fill up.

"So long you're not holding up the drinks, babes," came the pert reply, the soulful glance and the hand on Nikki's arm.

"I suppose you mean that I'm driving us home tonight? Well, I don't mind. I can party and still be stone cold sober," Nikki smiled affectionately, her hand sliding round Helen's waist. This was still the one place where the two women could feel free to be physically affectionate with each other. This was the fruit of her earlier labours, not only for Helen and herself but every like-minded woman. Trisha grinned in reply, nostalgic memories in her eyes and promptly served Helen a generous measure of vodka and lemonade and an orange for Nikki.

"Hey, that's just the way I like it, Trisha. Nikki always pours small measures at home."

"You two get out and enjoy yourselves, babes," called out Trisha.

The two women chattered away to each other while the sounds of the party music infused their moods and the flashing lights made each woman glow through the eyes of the other. Nikki's large brown soulful eyes exchanged images with Helen's sparkling green eyes. They treated themselves to the way that dark shadows sculptured out the contours of each other's faces, the lock of hair flicked over Helen's ear and Nikki's slightly boyish sideways parted fringe trailing over her forehead.

"Helen, Nikki. How lovely it is to see you both," called out a familiar elegant voice from behind them.

They turned round to see George and Alice approach them, hands linked in each other's. Both women opened their eyes wide in astonishment. Alice looked as good to the eye as she always had but George was a revelation. They had been used to seeing the blond haired woman in her courtroom attire of formal suits and white shirt. This time, she was wearing a glamorous low cut purple dress that flowed round her contours to her best advantage.

"Didn't know that female barristers could look as good as you're looking right now," joked Nikki.

"Thereby hangs a story, Nikki. I bought it just before I split up with my ex and he hadn't the slightest idea of how I looked in it. I got to realize before I met Alice that I was dressing up for me. Now that I've met my lover, I don't have to be narcissistic, well not as much," laughed George as she kissed the cheek of the taller woman affectionately. Alice was glowing and transcendent.

"George, you didn't waste any time in picking up one really good woman who deserves to be looked after and loved as she should be," Helen added softly. She could relate to George's situation so easily and the sheer joy that flowed between her and Alice.

"I don't know but some guardian angel pointed my feet in George's direction. As you might guess, we are an item, aren't we not, babes."

"Definitely, darling," drawled George.

The four women drifted out on the dance floor and celebrated their mutual existence. They felt on top of the world and felt at one with the music pumping out from the speakers in synch with the flickering lights. They danced away in an undulating wave of sensations and delighting on the little bodily twists and turns of their partners. On the dance floor, they could drink in the female beauty of their partners just as the other couples did.

*******

"So, you and Alice look as if you're having a whale of a time. I'm really glad for both of you," Helen said kindly to George as they took a rest.

"I can't believe how good this last month has felt. It's turned my life completely around. I mean, when I first came to this club, I didn't plan on seducing this extremely gorgeous woman who I clapped eyes upon. It was something that happened to me….and I'm so glad it did. The sex is just fantastic for a start," George replied in a breathless stream of words. Her skin positively glowed

"I couldn't disagree with that one," commented Helen with dry wit. **"**All the same, you're pretty remarkable in changing your course in life so drastically. From what I've heard from talking to other women, they go through a lot of soul searching, like I did. It's not like absorbing an intellectual proposition or trying on a different dress."

"I know what you're saying. Let's just say I hadn't got any ties at that time or anything to hold me back. I became receptive to the idea in seeing Trisha and Sally-Anne together when I was representing them. The time was right. The only fly in the ointment is in broach this with my daughter Charlie."

"That's something that's beyond my experience, George," Helen laughed. **"**Tell me more."

"She's at university, thinking she's terribly radical in getting involved with animal rights protests and I'm the ultra conservative power mad, money mad barrister. She's going to have a shock when she finds out what her mother has been doing behind her back."

"You mean she always thought you're stuck in your ways and you couldn't possibly understand her," laughed Helen understandingly. **"**Try telling her that she can't be oh so radical in one area of thinking and hidebound reactionary in another."

"It's a nice idea but you might be making the mistake of thinking logically. She's that age of morally having her cake and eating it."

"What about John's guiding parental hand?" Helen inquired.

"He doesn't know either."

"How does Alice feel about the situation?"

"She's been absolutely marvellous. She's offered to talk to both of them or stay in the background of any discussions. She's said that there's no need for them to be threatened. Neither of them would be losing me. Alice is one in a million. I'll tell you Helen**,** that if I had met a woman like her years ago, I would have become a lesbian then. Of course, making love with Alice is just out of this world," George said dreamily, the light of pure love in her eyes.

As she propped her hand in her chin and gazed upwards at the lights, she let them splash their multicoloured patterns into her eyes. She lazily thought that if her ex's political cronies heard her talking right then, they couldn't begin to frame the thoughts to describe her. She heard a crotchety, intolerant voice sounding rather like hers exclaim _'I wish in hell that, that troublemaking lesbian was still stuck in prison._ _We could all sleep easier in bed'_ she realized the voice was her own. She smiled to herself at that persona who was a million miles away from herself and let it pass.

"A penny for your thoughts, George."

"You can have them for free. I've been thinking that I've come a long way from the fearful woman who once sounded off about Nikki as a 'troublemaking lesbian.' The only good that came of it was that she put me very much in my place and it led me to where I am now, totally and romantically in love with Alice. So I'm now another 'troublemaking lesbian'. That feels really good."

"You're in the best possible company," Helen's voice told her warmly.

Suddenly, slim fingers softly caressed George's arm and passed onto her shoulders. A well-remembered kiss was softly planted on her cheek. It could be only one woman and it drew a blissful smile from George.

"Alice darling, Helen has been kindly reminding me why the best thing that happened to us was for you to move in. After all, there's little point in playacting and playing it cool."

"Hey, that's fantastic news," broke in Sally Anne enthusiastically from behind her." It only right that you share your lives."

George had that curious long ago feeling of when she was a little girl and wearing her birthday dress and being the center of attention at a party that was laid on for her. Everyone wished her well, including her proud parents and she was basking in the attention everyone was giving her. She clutched her presents to her and she had that same golden feeling within her. Here she was with those most priceless gifts of public approval. Nikki looked on approvingly while Trisha grinned with that sense of understanding. All these women were sensitive and intelligent and their approval of her meant the world to George. Alice placed herself on her lover's lap and wound herself round her. She placed George's face between her hands and kissed the blond woman whose hand lovingly caressed the dark haired woman's hip. This moment was sheer paradise.

******

Helen and Nikki looked on and were happy to immerse themselves in this communal celebration. They felt good about themselves to savour every passing pleasurable moment while their concern over Karen's misfortunes was put on the back burner. Tonight was the night to enjoy themselves and they didn't have to lay a guilt trip on themselves. Nikki knew for one that Yvonne would have told her not to be such a stupid cow in being miserable in solidarity action with them. They bloody deserved to enjoy themselves on the outside, as they'd deserved it. The time would come for the hard work and toil to start up again. Just as they felt the presence of these women smiling approval on them, they in turn blessed George and Alice's radiant happiness.


	15. Chapter 15

Scene Fifteen

"We weren't really sure just how useful we are in the proceedings," Nikki apologetically explained as she and Helen stood awkwardly in the functional comfort of Claire's office. Both she and Helen felt perfectly natural in socializing with solicitors and working out plans of action but they didn't want to be excess baggage. They had come along to Claire's office at her polite urging. They had soberly dedicated themselves to this Monday morning off work right after the delights of going out to 'Chix' on Friday night and dancing until it was closing time. "I mean, if you wanted to clue us into what you're going to do after the meeting, we'd be happy if that's what you want," Nikki said to Claire yet looking at Karen for whose benefit she and Helen were really there.

"Don't be modest, the pair of you. I know you too well by now. Both of you know Larkhall and that's what matters. In any case, I'm only too grateful that you're sparing me your time and attention," Karen said in flat businesslike tones. Inwardly, her emotions welled up in tearful gratitude but were blocked expression thanks to that spasm of her habitual devotion to duty.

The two women looked at Karen, sitting inconspicuously in the corner with another woman that neither had seen before. She had obviously fished out her work suit and gone to town on her makeup to prop up her shaky self-belief. She had placed her head between her hands and was obviously under strain. Claire whose calm efficiency was designed to settle frayed nerves held centre stage. They drew up chairs and joined the circle. The woman who was new to all of them and drew attention was seated in a relaxed fashion in the corner and must be Shirley Cheetham. Claire led off the discussion in her incisive way.

"The problem as I see it is that we're dependent on the police investigation. My feelings are that they've made their mind up and are looking for the evidence to fit around it. They haven't really dealt with the possibility that Karen is innocent and that the real murderer is on the loose. Our problem is that Karen's car is held in the police pound and we're dependent on their forensic investigation. I don't want that and we need someone to be able to parallel their investigation and draw the proper conclusions. It might be late in the day but Karen's flat needs to be properly checked over. To my way of thinking, someone must have broken into your flat and got hold of your keys. Failing that, the only alternative is that somehow, your keys were copied through work."

"But I keep saying that's impossible," protested Karen." I was in all bloody evening."

"Were you in your living room all the time?" questioned Helen.

"I had a shower and fixed myself a coffee and a bit to eat. That is literally the sum total. It's a bloody remarkable coincidence that whoever it was who broke into my flat, did it at that particular moment?"

"Could he have peeped in and seen that you weren't there? I take it your lights were on and it was obvious you were in. Would a guy hanging round on those quiet streets have been that inconspicuous?"

"I've already cased out your flat and the scene of the accident," the stranger said in a moderately educated voice," and I wouldn't say it was impossible."

The four women turned to look at this elegantly dressed woman. She had long mid brown flowing hair, strongly defined features, sharp brown eyes that missed nothing and expressive hand movements. Nikki found her manner of speaking instantly familiar and appealing.

"If I'm going to be your private eye, I'm not going to be a lazy arse and play guessing games from my office. If I'm going to investigate, I don't believe in pissing about but to get out there and get my hands dirty."

"You're Yvonne Atkins' niece aren't you," Nikki asked, fascinated and buoyed up by this woman's frank manner.

"Don't let that put you off. My mum and Yvonne grew up dead close as sisters but Yvonne made the mistake of taking up with that criminal waste of space named Charlie Atkins. Now me, I made a point of staying legit and being on the right side of the law but I couldn't stand sticking in the police force for more than it took me to learn my trade. That's why I set up as a private investigator. Some of those coppers are as bent as Charlie was and I didn't want to get dragged down to their level. I was tough enough not to end up a victim like Sally-Anne Howe, poor cow. They wouldn't have even thought twice about trying it on with me."

"We're not put off by the family connection in the least, quite the opposite," Helen grinned.

"Just look upon Atkins values as the dark angel. I'm the good angel," said Shirley pertly.

"Yvonne's daughter was called Lauren and you're Shirley."

"Lauren after Lauren Bacall and Shirley after Shirley McLaine. Both mum and aunt Yvonne were fond of Hollywood stars. We have that in common but I keep my distance from Lauren as she's still running the criminal side of the Atkins business. I'd be a fool not to. Sentiment doesn't come into this."

"That figures," Karen said in a more even relaxed tone of voice than had been heard from her." Obviously, I'd defer to Claire's experience of working with you, Shirley, but I for one feel totally relaxed about you working for Claire."

"Right, that's settled. The real problem is finding out what went on in Larkhall prison and what worries me is what we don't know. The fact that you were sending in a dossier to area seems way, way too much of a coincidence especially when you'd already handed in your resignation from the prison service. These two events must be inextricably linked just on timing alone….."

"I agree Claire," interjected Shirley.

"…….what I need to know is just who you told about the dossier."

Karen sat back in her chair trying to reconstruct the feverish rush of her final days at Larkhall. A mixture of adrenaline and desperation had her fired up. Finally, the mists of her memory cleared and she related her story in short unsteady bursts of conversation.

"First of all, I persuaded Tina O'Kane to sign a statement that she'd been sexually assaulted by Fenner…..she was scared to death to drop him in it,….. even had this idea that she was somehow responsible……………I kept telling her that he should never have put himself in that position….I got her a weekend pass to keep her out of harms way….Then there's Colin Hedges…..he made a statement and we both saw Grayling together…..Colin's all right…..he took a lot of stick from Grayling for his part with Fenner in Shell Dockley being shipped out….. I told Grayling that I had compiled a dossier ready to go to area…… He was shifty about the whole matter…..he said I couldn't send in a pile of papers willy nilly…..he asked me to hang fire……. Later, I told Yvonne that I'd planned to send in the file straightaway …..Finally, Fenner got wind of the whole thing, how I don't know, and really went berserk ……he wouldn't leave my office……. I gave him chapter and verse that there were photos, statements, the lot going off to area,……even that wanker Grayling was on side and that ……….I told him I'd be working that afternoon at home and I'd celebrate ……….with a victory drink…. The rest, you know by now..."

Karen's halting story finished with the sense of bitter defeat with all the awareness of what could have been. Helen's face was contorted with sympathy and she winced at Karen's fatal temptation to signal in advance the blow she was about to inflict on Fenner. Helen knew only too well, that she had made that fractional fatal slip in giving Fenner a time extension to explain to the very same Karen Betts about his involvement in Virginia O'Kane's brothel empire. Her heart went out to Karen's premature proclamation of triumph in her present defeat and it reignited the long buried rage at her time at Larkhall.

"The next time Fenner crosses our path and we have the chance to finally drive a stake through his heart, if he has one, we'll sneak up behind him, giving him absolutely no warning and we do him." Helen said furiously.

Helen's passionate ringing tones took everyone aback, Nikki especially. None of the other women were quite sure whether or not Helen was speaking metaphorically. Claire was the first to speak in easy joking tones.

"You don't mean literally, Helen? After all my years of experience of the super correct, stick by the rules Helen Stewart, and recently good friend of the judiciary?"

"I wouldn't put it past John to take extreme action if push came to shove but, yeah, let's keep it legal. That way we can get to visit him and make faces at him through the prison bars." Nikki cleverly remarked.

All the other women laughed heartily at Nikki's witticism. It seemed the most perfect justice and deflated the build up of tension. Claire was about to summarise the situation when Shirley intervened.

"One moment, Karen. Just what sort of things were you and Fenner saying to each other?"

"Oh," Karen reflected as she pulled out a cigarette and lit up. She paused as it took her time to dig this out of her memory back and went on to talk in a tired tone of voice. "Stuff like 'What are you up to, you conniving bitch?' and told me not to 'prick me about.' When I told him chapter and verse, and accused him of 'years of lying, abuse and rape', he threatened to kill me. What hit home was that were once in a relationship, more fool me and he did that to me. I told him that 'his balls were going up on my fireplace' and 'I'd send a big fat file to Area.' He grabbed hold of me once and I told him twice to get out of my office. I think that's the gist of it. He wasn't kidding. He meant every word he said and come to think of it, so did I."

"Whew," Helen exclaimed while Nikki looked on, wide-eyed with horror. Shirley sat back, stone faced, registering everything. Finally, Claire let things settle down before resuming her summary of the situation.

"This actually simplifies things, you guys. Jim Fenner has the strongest possible motive for stitching you up – let's call it by its proper name. What I've heard tells me much more. He knew exactly what you intended to do, where you were going to be and that very same night, your car disappears and kills an innocent pedestrian. Nikki's visit is particularly important. It confirms to me without doubt that Yvonne, Colin Hedges and Tina are definitely on side. Of those who could have driven the car, we're left with Fenner, Grayling and at a stretch Di Barker. From what I've heard, Grayling wouldn't risk getting his hands dirty. From all accounts, Di Barker is spiteful but has no compelling motive. We know that Karen's file was put through the shredder, which may be Grayling's handiwork. By sheer process of elimination and character, I can only envisage Fenner driving the car."

"You're forgetting one thing, Claire. I can't get my head round Fenner dressing up in a blond wig and generally tarting himself up," Nikki put in.

"To be totally objective, I'd never known Fenner capable of this level of criminality either. This is way beyond assaulting you, Helen, beating up Shell Dockley, running O'Kane's knocking shops," Karen answered soberly.

This friendly debate had drawn her into this circle of women and for once since her arrest, she didn't seem like some kind of a freak. For once, she felt normal again.

"I've seen Fenner before with his back against the wall, Karen. When he gets desperate, there isn't much he wouldn't do to save his skin. The bigger the jam, the more extreme the reaction. Besides, we don't know if he did the full lipstick and makeup routine. The wig and a coat might be enough. It's not impossible and can't be discarded. Besides, as Sherlock Homes said, once you eliminate the impossible, what's left however improbable must be the truth," Helen said slowly and deliberately, piecing her thoughts together.

"Ah the great detective, eh," Shirley Cheetham said lightheartedly. **"**I've been keeping out of this debate as you guys know the people concerned and I don't. Respect to the guy…I'll go down on my hands and knees, watching out for stray cigarette ends and footprints, talking to witnesses and chatting up friendly coppers. There's always the outside possibility that there was a handy CCTV camera, which might have caught something on camera. You never know still you start looking."

"There's one thing I ought to make clear, Shirley." Karen said, looking extremely embarrassed. **"**My biggest fault is in falling for smooth talking bastards, don't know why but I lived with him once and we were engaged to be married….until I saw the light."

To Karen's intense relief, Shirley took this in her stride. She felt incredibly foolish in comparison with this sharp talking woman.

"That could be an advantage, Karen. You might have a photograph or spare negative of the guy."

"I'm sure I have one. I'll dig it out for you."

"Have you heard enough from us to start off your investigation, Shirley?" Helen asked.

"I've heard enough from you guys that everything's as clear as crystal. That's good as not every client makes that so easy for me. Getting to the bottom of this one to make it stick, that's the hard one. The worry I have is in not being to tap into Larkhall prison itself**... **don't ask me why. Everything else, I have ways of finding out. First thing I need to do is to go through your flat from top to bottom, Karen. I'll come and see you next Tuesday as I've got a case I'm just wrapping up and I want to go away and think about the case."

"That's fine by me. I've nothing to hide," Karen said in relieved tones. She was starting to recover her nerve and figured out that she could cope with kicking her heels for a week. At least she was given hope.

There was a pleasant sense of resolution and purposefulness amongst the four women as they broke off for a welcome cup of tea. The intense effort of concentration and the detailed conversation had tired Karen out. The other women made an effort to be kind and sympathetic towards her. Inevitably, there came the time when they all had to go their separate ways for now. What struck a poignant note was that Nikki and Helen were headed off to their work, Claire was ready to pick up her next file, Shirley was due to head on elsewhere on another investigation while all Karen had to look forward to was the bare emptiness of her own flat.


	16. Chapter 16

**Scene Sixteen **

Nikki felt curiously happy about her working environment in a quiet part of Hackney, just out of the hustle and bustle of the city centre. The office was old fashioned, unpretentious and modern progress marked it only with the up to date computers and **I**nternet access. Deep in the bowels of the building was a library with voluminous records of past scholarly research. That part of the building gave Nikki a sense of reverence**, **for past intellectual endeavours as she had for all libraries, even the Larkhall prison library where she had immersed herself with dreams of a better existence. It was while she had ventured down there that she bumped into Paul Armstrong, who raised an eyebrow at her. It was obvious that her junior was feeing on top of the world, glowing from a sense of achievement.

"That report of yours was pretty damning, Nikki," he commented, which put the woman instantly on the defensive.

"I thought very hard on the report and I didn't put anything into the report that I couldn't back up. I couldn't believe that after all Helen's presence there**,** that it couldn't have got better but I found the complete opposite. What drove home that conclusion was Dr Nicholson's reappointment as Senior Medical Officer after his deficiencies had been made clear."

"Relax, Nikki," Paul Williams said in easy**-**going tones to Nikki's deliberately controlled manner and language. **"**My line is and always has been that if you can find facts to justify your conclusions, then that's the way things are. My job is to back up your report to the hilt. I know enough about you to consider**,** that you're fair minded**, **and doing your research on Larkhall Prison is about the most severe test you could ever hope to encounter."

"Why is that, Paul?" asked a smiling, visibly more relaxed Nikki.

"As a researcher, you're only human. It's understandable if you either let your emotions take charge as soon as you set foot in the place or alternatively, overreacted the opposite way. Don't get me wrong**…** there is a place for emotional engagement. The best of us are here on a crusade, not as a cold-blooded career stepping-stone as I've seen far too many of that kind in my time. The main thing is that you got it right."

Nikki was instantly glowing. She had felt as if she's been given an A+ in an essay assignment. She knew that she was quite capable of ploughing her own furrow in this world but she was still a sucker for sincere appreciation of her efforts.

"The other thing I wanted to ask you about was how your private research project is going on."

Instantly, Nikki was on the defensive again. Her ingrained habit kicked in that she thought an authority figure was going to slap her down again. Paul spotted it straightaway.

"The most important thing that came out of the discussions yesterday is that Karen has got a private investigator on the case, name of Shirley Cheetham. She's also got the services of Claire Walker. Shirley's smart and has been well primed by Helen and I as to what to look for."

Though Nikki's answer seemed straight enough, she couldn't suppress**,** the tightness in her voice, as if to block off possible criticism.

"So**… **your involvement will be in giving background advice and comfort and appearing as a witness in Karen Betts trial, that will inevitably take place. You won't be going down on your hands and knees and checking out crime scenes."

Nikki looked very disconcerted. All she knew was her emotional investment in being back into battle again with her enemies at Larkhall. Her boss was two steps ahead of her and she wasn't sure whether or not she was being reined in or if she should be.

"I …..don't understand, Paul."

"Let me explain it this way and let's take it a step at a time. You became quite innocently a witness where a man was deliberately run over and killed and the police have interviewed you and Helen. The chances are that you'll be called upon to give evidence in a court of law. You've had experience of that and I trust you to know how to handle yourself. So far, so good. You've been at a private meeting where you and Helen have advised your friend who has got two professionals on the case. That's equally fine. You've conducted a visit to Larkhall Prison under our banner and you have done a great job of it. What worries me is that you'll feel tempted to go back there again and you must know**, **that you can't stake that prison out at the expense of other prisons on your watch like Holloway for instance. You have to carry our banner and you need to be careful with just how far you act as a private citizen without giving our political enemies a stick to beat us with. You have to accept that there are boundaries."

Nikki flushed with a curious sense of embarrassment at the obvious kindness shown by her boss and a sense that she was in danger of being carried away by the whole situation.

"You must sometimes have real trouble with me. I've always had a mind of my own," she said in thick, choked tones, not looking him directly.

"Nikki," he laughed affectionately." When you were interviewed for your job, that was spotted a mile away and was seen as a positive advantage. My advice to you is to go away and figure out just where your boundaries are. Perhaps you talk it over with Helen. You'll be bound to get to the right answer."

Nikki shook the man's hand fervently as he smile and moved on. She then took herself to the familiar sense of comfort and quiet of the library. Her sense of justice made her conclude that Paul had handled the situation spot on. As she reflected in a spare moment while looking through the yellowed yet stiff pages from a bygone era, she reflected on Helen's agonizing about her professionalism years ago when she was an inmate. She could now see that Helen's reluctance to commit herself to their relationship wasn't just her struggling with her sexuality.

********

"I had a very strange experience today," Nikki said thoughtfully." Paul took me on one side and talked to me about my responsibilities."

"Uh oh, that sounds like something of a reprimand," Helen said, her memories jumping back in time to when she was wing governor at Larkhall. The war wounds still hurt when prodded.

"It wasn't really. He was being perfectly sweet about the matter. He wasn't really drawing the line with me. It was more like he put a pencil in my hand and got me to mark out that line myself. It helped me to clarify my thinking, which isn't common in my experience of authority figures. It was his way of making sure that he could fend off any criticism of me."

Nikki settled back behind the wheel and drove them calmly past the London bus that was slowing down.

*******

As the week had been pretty calm and Karen's business was well in hand, the two women treated themselves to a Friday night out at Chix. They got there fairly early and the club was only starting to fill up. Trisha and Sally came over to greet them warmly at a time when they could best devote them spare time.

Helen was chatting away to Trisha quite normally**;** propping up the bar while Nikki was deeply engrossed in conversation with Sally Anne.

"Remember me? I once nearly gave you a ticket for driving without due care and attention," came a very firm voice from out of her past. The woman has shortish blond hair and was dressed in smart trousers and jacket in an almost military style. Her mouth dropped a mile and eyes opened wide with astonishment. She knew that she'd met her somewhere before but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Perhaps if I put my on uniform and peaked hat, it'll jog your memory."

"Aaah," Helen exclaimed, an uncertain smile spreading over her face while her eyes flickered nervously," I remember now. You pulled us over after I swerved to avoid a cat."

The policewoman favoured Helen once again with that emphatic conspiratorial wink and the smaller woman had that automatic feeling that somehow she was about to be issued with some kind of ticket. Perhaps if she kept smiling, the policewoman would go easy on her?

"Hey take it easy, we're off duty. We're not doing some undercover operation here**,** but here for the same reason as you and your girlfriend over there. We only heard of this place recently on the gravevine so we thought we'd check it out. It looks pretty relaxed around here."

Helen was too polite to say that she felt pretty unrelaxed in the presence of two serving members of Larkhall police station. She saw Nikki looking out of the corner of her eye at them and had taken in the situation. The taller woman had every reason to be allergic to the police force in general placing Sally-Anne in a separate category. Nikki now turned round and came over to them, wearing her best smile of welcome.

"We haven't seen you in these parts before. It's nice to see new faces. My name's Nikki Wade."

"I'm Ros and my partner Jenny, believe it or not she's the shy one of the two of us," came the friendly enough introduction.

"I bet you do long hours for the police force. This is a place you can unwind from all that."

"We're in the same league. After all, you must slog your guts out for the hospital?"

Nikki's mouth hung open, not knowing what to say when Helen came to the rescue. Her attempt to be sympathetic and understanding had backfired on them. Was it nearly eighteen months ago, when they had first slept together, Nikki wondered to herself? She could remember finding out that Helen was dragging her back to Larkhall. She had grabbed the steering wheel in a mad moment to turn right at the junction rather than go straight on back to prison. Nikki had been sitting in the car, fuming at Helen who had been talking their way out of a driving charge by these very same policewomen who had pulled them up. This woman had spotted Nikki's borrowed nursing uniform and Helen hadn't denied that were both nurses**.** The parting remark to them suggested they get over their lover's tiff and go on home to their bed.

"We've moved on since then, Ros. I'm doing a nine to five job while Nikki's doing a research job," Helen said guardedly. She wasn't sure if this woman would see Nikki as a 'do gooder.'

"Ah well, each to their own. Mind you, I really respect the nursing profession. They do a hard enough job. Some of us get injured in the performance of our duties and they look after us…….."

"Hey, I recognize you," exclaimed Ros with a look of recognition as she looked around and spotted a familiar face." You're Sally-Anne Howe. I remember you from, let me see, five years back. I remember you made the big mistake of being too polite to that bastard Gossard and not threatening to knee him in the bollocks as soon as he tried it on as I did. I think he got the hint."

The general laughter of appreciation broke the ice and the two women escaped from the prison of their official identities, which had hung over them. They had been greeted in a friendly enough fashion but there was a feeling of unnatural stiffness. They were now just another two women who were fresh to the club and were getting their bearings in a new environment.

"I know that being a policewoman is a conversation killer and we're here to get away from all that," Ros explained. She offered a round of drinks and deftly weaved their way into the community.

*****

"I don't want to spoil the party, Ros, but I wanted to talk some work business with you and then I'll shut up," Nikki said as she and the other woman propped up the bar, nursing their drinks in a friendly fashion.

"Couple of minutes and that's all. You'll never know until you've been there what it's like the moment you say what you do for a living. The 'hang them and flog them brigade complain that we're too soft on crime and the libertarians slag us off for being too hard."

"Just a practical matter, Ros. A friend of ours, Karen Betts, has been framed for a hit and run accident. We're absolutely sure she's innocent."

"How sure, Nikki?" the other woman asked sharply.

"As sure as anything I've ever been of in my life."

Nikki's upfront manner and the evening of socializing convinced the policewoman of her sincerity.

"She got the best solicitor going and a great private investigator by the name of Shirley Cheetham."

"I know her."

"I don't want you to put your job on the line but she's been getting the runaround when she's trying to get access to the car pound to look over her car."

"…..and you want to get access from the inside, Nikki. You know I've got to be careful what I do."

Nikki coloured a little. She was a little embarrassed at the idea of putting this woman in a difficult position.

"I know, Ros. I've been advised by my boss along these lines earlier this week."

"Shirley's all right. I wouldn't let any idiot go poking around the car and risk screwing up the investigation. You give me her phone number and I'll sort it out."


	17. Chapter 17

**Scene Seventeen **

"Oh God, the name of that dratted prison again has come to haunt us," Sir Ian groaned into his morning cup of tea. The silver teaspoon rattled its accompaniment in time with the man's nervous spasm.

"It's an open and shut case," Lawrence James pronounced in his stiff-necked version of offering comfort.

"Can somebody explain to me that in all the prisons up and down the length of this country, why only Larkhall Prison offers such a fiendish selection of cases that turn round and bite us from behind. That dratted woman who was banged up for stabbing that out of control policeman gets tried not once, twice, but three times and everything ends up as if she'd never killed the man in the first place. That DC Gossard, instead of lying in his grave peacefully, somehow instigates that other dratted woman to sue the Metropolitan Police and the taxpayer**'s** ends up paying a fortune just because the Met couldn't get its act together. I mean what's the matter with this place, is some dangerous chemical getting fed into the drinking water to cause such mayhem?"

Lawrence James waited tactfully for his master's querulous nature to exhaust both itself and its vocabulary before tactfully intervening.

"Surely by the law of averages, we must have a straightforward case and from what I understand of the evidence being presented, the case is sound."

"The case might be**…** but is there such a thing as a sound judge?" Sir Ian asked gloomily.

"What about a sound barrister. There are plenty of them around?"

Sir Ian heaved a sigh. What he couldn't admit to Lawrence James was that the most talented judges and barristers had some spark of individuality about them. Some infernal practical joker of a deity made these people into unruly ill disciplined rebels. God only knew this should be the case as they nearly all came from comfortable backgrounds, through the public schools, through Oxbridge, and after acquiring their learning, flagrantly misused their talents. This is a contrary age, he concluded bitterly, and he resented why in hell he should be saddled with all these quite unnecessary troubles.

"We have to trust that the case is watertight, Lawrence. That will be all."

*****

Shirley Cheetham had made her way to Karen's house long before the two mandarins bemoaned their fate. When she rat tat tatted on the door, a sleepy Karen greeted her, her hair unbrushed, wearing jeans and a top she'd thrown on.

"I'm sorry Shirley**,** but I've only just got up. I have trouble sleeping. Can I get you a coffee?" she said apologetically.

The other woman tactfully set up her briefcase on the table while Karen got busy. She judged that this blond haired woman was hanging by her fingernails to every last bit of self-respect. She offered Karen a cigarette and ran her eye over the flat.

"First thing is to figure how your flat was broken into and maybe if anything was tampered with. First off, on the morning after the accident, did you double check the file you prepared last night?"

That question brought Karen up short. She had never thought to ask herself that question. It shows how her brains are going to mush with nothing to do, she thought bitterly.

"I didn't. I'd checked it all the night before I had a shower. Everything looked all right in the morning."

"You said you sent incriminating photos of Fenner. So what happened to the negatives?"

Karen shot up out of her chair and darted to her sideboard as these questions sharpened up her memory. She looked inside and drew blank.

"I swore I left the negatives there. They must have been taken."

"Right, is there anything that you can think of that's been stolen?"

"Not that I know of," Karen replied in a tight voice after a long pause.

"OK, no need to make you paranoid. We know something was taken from your flat. Now I need to check out how the guy got in."

Shirley took her box of tricks and checked out the front door. She investigated the front lock and sure enough, found marks where a screwdriver had been used to pry open the lock. There were very faint scratch marks showing that the burglar was an amateur. She hated to say it but these new flats that were run up in no time at all were far easier to crack than a Victorian terrace house with a solid front door and lock. She had had her suspicions as soon as she entered the flat and now they were confirmed.

"Just look at that, Karen. Your front door lock has been picked."

"My God. …..does that mean that whoever broke in was an expert burglar?"

"Just one question. Had this Fenner guy ever visited your flat?"

"Yeah he did. He lived here for awhile till I kicked him out and he went to live in a bed and breakfast. He was separated from his wife and children before moving in with me."

"The guy who did that didn't need to be so smart, Karen. An average guy could have done what he did. All he needed was desperation and nerve."

" is making more sense."

"So he must have either stolen your keys or else had a spare set cut?"

"I put them on the dining table before I had a shower."

"Right, now show me how he could have got down to the garage, Karen."

The blond haired woman led the way through to the empty garage**,** and Karen pointed out exactly where she stood**, **when she saw that her car was replaced by an empty space leaving her no choice as she then naturally reported the car as stolen. Shirley reflected on this woman's transparent honesty as she spoke in quite unassuming tones. That didn't stop her from being open to all possibilities. This was the tool of her trade.

Shirley said her goodbyes and set out on the trail to the scene of the accident. . The day outside was fine and glorious and she was eager to get investigating. She traced out the possible route that the car would have taken from Karen's flat to the point to the point where Helen and Nikki first spotted it. Unfortunately, the route was pretty nondescript and, worse still, there were no CCTV cameras operating along the way. From comparing her own driving with the way Karen's car was described as driving, without any doubt she knew, it must have been driven by a total nutter. Some of the narrow roads would have forced any ordinary driver to keep the speed down. She didn't know how these facts would mesh in with the great scheme of things. When she drove to the murder scene, Shirley shook her head in wonder. All along, she had hedged her impressions between accident and murder. Seeing the width of the road laid out before her eyes, she knew that there wasn't an earthly need for the man to have died. This was outright murder.

Shirley knew at this point that she'd done enough musing and pondering. Her first call was at the police pound and she was waved through, giving ample reassurance to the bored looking attendants. This task was considerably helped by Nikki's intervention**,** and she felt good in having no problems before her that she couldn't crack. She made her way to the little green sports car and sure enough, it sported the correct registration places MHL324L. It had the look of a vehicle that had been left outside for a while but its interior was neatly kept. She took out her box of tricks and went carefully through the car interior. Not a grain of any forensic traces, which was her first setback. She was hoping that there might be the faintest trace left which the police had missed but she was out of luck. She then carefully examined the front bonnet of the car and it mapped out the tragedy of the murder.

What attracted her attention was the position of the driving seat. She had carefully compared her height and build with Karen and when she sat down in the driver's seat, she had to really stretch her legs so that the toes of her shoes could just about brush the pedals. When she reached for the accelerator, she had the same reaction. Her information was that Fenner was quite a bit taller than Karen**,** but her cool and calculating mind considered how the police would have moved the car from its resting place to this yard. Surely, she reasoned, if it was driven here or moved on a car transporter, whoever helped with the move needn't be taller than Karen? They're not all six feet strapping men and could easily be women? She filed this thought at the back of her mind as she politely thanked the men on the gate and drove off to the scene of the tragedy.

On the face of it, the response by witnesses at the murder scene was disappointing as they all unhesitatingly picked out Karen's face as opposed to the three other women of similar appearance from the photos she produced. What Shirley hadn't forgotten was that the tabloids had splashed the story on the front page and included a picture of Karen Betts with it. She couldn't discount the possibility that the witnesses were simply wishing their recollections to conform to the news story that had already been written. Helen and Nikki had tailed the car for a considerable period of time but they'd never seen the driver head on or sideways on as the witnesses had, even for a split second before it raced off. Again, they were extremely careful in their judgments and this could be explained two ways. On the one hand, it went against their previous perception of Karen even if their history wasn't one of unmixed friendship and on the other hand, they were intelligent women who didn't see the need for being Ms Know**-**all. However, the realistic side of her nature kicked in to depress her. She calculated that if these women stood up in a court of law, she knew which side to place her money on. Face facts, girl, you've got all the faith in the world but bugger all solid facts to set up against the opposition. You've got to dig a lot deeper than this.

As the people went about their business, Shirley stood alone, the sunlight beaming down on this quiet ordinary looking street. In broad daylight, it didn't look as if it had anything to conceal from the world but the events that night had set a puzzle as perplexing anywhere. She set off in her car and made her way to where Karen's car had been left and that didn't tell her much. The driver had simply pulled off the road, driven a short way up an incline and left, parked a little way from the kerb. What took her attention were the CCTV cameras, which were situated just right. A smile spread across her face, as she was sure that this could provide the answers she was seeking.

******

Three hours later, she was back in her flat with a video recorder, a stack of tapes and a mugful of strong black coffee. This uncertain, slightly blurry record was going to be her consistent, replayable eye on the events that had gone down. She knew that she was going to have an endless panorama of the same stretch of nondescript stretch of road. She had always been a determined sort of person. Well, depending on how the cassettes had been compiled, she would have to have all the determination in the world. She loaded up the first tape and let it run and run. As the afternoon wore on, that same stretch of road tired her eyes as nothing happened. She let each tape play to the end, put it on rewind and shoved in the next tape. Time crawled onwards until at the fourth tape, Shirley's tired eyes suddenly blazed with excitement as she finally saw what she was looking for. That familiar green MG sports car suddenly turned the corner and Shirley jabbed at the pause button. The car was frozen in its frame with a slight wobble on it. She swore to herself**, **as the image wasn't as distinct as she would have wished. She finally concluded that it might have been Karen but then again it might have been someone else. It was totally frustrating as she was no further than Nikki and Helen had been. After studying the screen for ages, she gave up in despair and let the car disappear out of sight, under its angle of vision. She sipped at the dregs of the cold coffee in her mug and morosely gave way to her feelings of disappointment. It was just then when a tall figure cantered its way diagonally from the bottom right corner of the screen to the top left hand corner. As he ran, he briefly twisted his body round to look behind him and immediately revealed the shape of the man. He was tall, well-built, short hair and his sharp features suggested the shape of Jim Fenner.

Shirley shouted to herself exultantly as this handy device had at last put their chief suspect in the frame. She couldn't wait to contact Karen, the one person who once had been closest to him who could be definite.


	18. Chapter 18

**Scene Eighteen **

It occurred to John that he hadn't seen George about for a number of weeks. As a rule, they exchanged amicable conversations in passing and ran into each other at social events. Since they had patched up their differences, their encounters had lost that edginess and any verbal sparring between them was now purely playful. It seemed perfectly logical to John that they should come round full circle and that their relationship should take on a more intimate form. The trouble was that George, in her most charmingly enigmatic fashion, had detached herself from such a possibility at every turn. Suddenly the situation had changed for no good reason, as she just wasn't around as much as she had been. He had that burning desire to find the answer.

"It seems a long time since I've seen you, George," John said in his most suave tones as he finally cornered her.

"I see you in court from time to time," George said with her brightest smile.

She offered him her cheek to be kissed before gracefully withdrawing.

"That's not the same. We were getting closer recently than we have been for years."

"I can't recall recently throwing a glass of wine in your face or tipping a Chinese takeaway on the carpet of your digs. In fact, I have been astonishingly well behaved for such a long time."

John was getting slightly irritated at George's very skilful verbal fencing, especially as her allusions to her past displays of temper were perfectly accurate. This wasn't what he meant and it was as if she was deliberately obstructing his questioning. He opted for the direct inquisitorial approach.

"If it weren't for your lack of boastfulness, I would say that you have the signs of having a new boyfriend, George. I know you of old."

"No, no, John. I haven't got another boyfriend, John. I can safely assure you of that."

The undue emphasis that George placed on her words made John feel slightly unsettled. It was more positive and less evasive than he had expected.

"I was curious as to your plans for your life. At one time, you might have been considered the government's reliable hired legal gun. Now, the world is your oyster."

"At one time, I had made plans to take work in the State of Virginia and work with Kay Scarpetta but now I'm not so sure. We correspond still and I intend to take a holiday over there in the near future. I'm content to drift along and take the work that comes my way. I am gaining experience in criminal work as well as civil work. Both interest me."

"What**? O**n the personal note**…** as both your friend and your ex husband, I confess that I am curious."

George rolled up her eyes at the man and sighed loudly. John was the most tenacious inquisitor she had ever met in her life. She thought carefully about the matter and a slight smile curved her lips. After all, he was blatantly asking about her love life and he couldn't complain about hearing the truth.

"You are the most infuriating man imaginable and have deliberately ignored my hints not to keep questioning me. You are asking about my love life and so I will tell you. I will warn you that you really might not like the answer."

George paused and looked at the glitter of curiosity in John's eyes and the smile on his face. He really didn't know what he was getting into.

"It all goes back to the Sally Anne Howe case. You may have heard from Jo that we were all asked to go back to the club that she and Trisha Williams, Nikki's ex both run. Jo declined but I went along as I was up for a party. It sounded different from the boring parties that Vera Everard organises from time to time."

"It couldn't be worse," John agreed.

"Well," George said slowly, carefully picking her words carefully." It was one of those spur of the moment decisions I have been notorious for. I went with Helen and Nikki. Claire Walker came for a while but Jo chickened out."

"It was very considerate of you," murmured John.

_He still doesn't get it, groaned George to herself__._ "When I got there, I found that the atmosphere just carried me away. It really cheered me up. I saw this very attractive woman and we got talking and something clicked between us. I found that we were on the same wavelength."

"I'm glad you found someone you could have an intelligent conversation with, George."

_Dear God_, sighed George in growing desperation. _I would have never thought to see the day when John is actually naively innocent. I have been_ _throwing out hints but this isn't failing. I really don't want to hurt his feelings but I'll have to be blunt._

"John, when I describe Alice as attractive, I don't just mean in the intellectual sense. You have to understand that, well, the long and short of it was that she came back to my flat and….we spent the night together. That in short is the reason why I haven't been around so much."

In that fraction of a second, George saw John's face suddenly turned to stone. Instantly, he wiped all expression off his face and turned away without speaking. He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets and started to stroll round the room before suddenly laughing shortly. George knew very well that it wasn't because he was amused.

"Well, well, well, I never saw that one coming. Now I look backwards, I can see how this has crept up. I see it all."

"This means of course, that you can lay to rest, your thoughts of me going back to Neil. He doesn't know anything of this and I am urging you as a friend not to tell him."

"It would serve him right though."

"John, you are definitely not going to do this and I am not asking this for his sake. I have Alice's welfare to consider and you know how vindictive he is. If you must harbour thoughts of revenge, just think of him being in blissful ignorance."

"You have a point there," muttered John.

"Darling," George urged."What this means is that I'm definitely kept out of the orbit of the hardhearted and the powerful. Alice is a social worker and all that entails and she has a large heart. It means that, after all these years, politically I am on your side. I've finally been convinced after all these years. If you wish to pick your own quarrel with Neil, do it on your terms. If you go and punch him on the jaw, my only worry is of any trouble you might get into. You were my first love, something I'll never forget and you're a close friend. I still worry about what trouble you'll get into."

"And does Alice think the same way?" came the tight-lipped response.

"As a matter of fact she does. Your problem is that this is a challenge to your identity. You have subjected me for years to your brand of sickening politically correctness. The only prejudice you display is the thoroughly laudable one of disliking the timeservers, the apparatchiks and the hypocrites of this world. You have a well-deserved reputation for living up to your fine words so that no one can attack you. With all that, you cannot be homophobic."

For the first time, John looked George in the eye. All his pent up feelings poured over as he felt himself unjustly accused.

"I am not, as you say, homophobic, George. Why else would I seek out the friendship of Helen and Nikki as two women whose strength and character I admire? I even went over to their flat one night when I thought I'd lose you. They were very kind and sympathetic and I enjoyed their company. Your shallow accusation cannot be sustained."

"All right, John I withdraw that one. I'm a little bit defensive about Alice so I was being totally unfair."

John looked at George with a curious expression in his eyes. He had started to psych himself up for a full-on argument as they had always had**,** and the wind was taken out of his sails. He replied in a quiet, puzzled tone of voice.

"You really have changed, George. I have never heard you make a retraction in all the time I've known you."

"You remember the time we went out for a meal and you tried to seduce me in your nearly infallibly charming fashion. I told you then that we weren't going to end up back together."

"So at that time, you had your eye already on this…Alice."

"You're completely wrong, John," George said slightly severely. **"**At that time, I was feeling my way and had never met Alice until the celebration party right after the Sally Anne case. You must believe me."

"Why do my views matter?"

"Because I've known you for a long time and you matter to me as a close friend. There's more to this. If this gets out at this stage in the proceedings, our political enemies will have a field day over this. Up till now we have remained united."

George's nervousness and her unexpected grasp of politics bemused John with her perceptiveness. His naturally chivalrous nature fought its way to the top of the confused swirl of feelings churning round in John's psyche. It united with his ingrained political sense not to stupidly score 'own goals' in a fit of emotional indulgence. He knew that this was for real**. **

"Do you want, as they say, to 'come out' with Alice? You are asking a lot."

"Given time, it could happen. Remember, the brethren were kindly disposed to all the women who admired your totally outrageous theatrics when you went on strike. Alice was there, the tall woman with long dark hair, right at the back of the crowd. It was totally unknown territory for her but she stood up to be counted."

John felt George's persuasive tones start to win him round. Now that he came to think about it, he could remember that tall glamorous woman hiding shyly at the back. How or why George got herself into this situation was starting to become irrelevant. As his mind settled down he started to realise that what was wrong was that his intellect was engaged by George's reasonings but his emotions were skidding all over the place. It deeply disturbed him to think this way. While he was polite enough to George, he felt that overwhelming need to take himself off somewhere and think it over.

"Well I must admit that you've been fair. I did want to find out answers to what was happening. I got a bit more than I bargained for. That will teach me to be so inquisitive." John laughed more easily this time in a way George found a little more reassuring.

"I'm sorry I had to drop this on you in this way."

"Don't worry, George. There was no easy way to tell me."

"I mean everything I say, John. That includes my close friendship with you and my love for Alice. They aren't incompatible," George said slowly and clearly, fixing John's wavering glances with her steady gaze.

"For years, I wished that if only you could be more direct, it would be the solution to our endless arguments. I now realise thought I wished for but sometimes such honesty is hard on the eye and ear." John answered with a wry smile.

"I don't expect you to take it all in one go, John. You need to think it over, accept what I've said and above all that**…** we are in dangerous times and we all need to stick together," George warned.

John laughed heartily at George's words. The irony was that this was the mantra that he had uttered over the years to an irritated George and to his fellow brethren who had scorned and sidelined him. His words had finally come back to him as a resounding echo. Amidst his confusion, he gained some measure of satisfaction.

"I'll think over what you say and I'll get back to plotting further subversion against the government," John joked.

George knew very well that this was the last thing John wanted to do. She knew very well that he wanted to get away and find some answers in his life.


	19. Chapter 19

**Scene Nineteen **

Suspicions were creeping into Fenner's mind**,** that the control of events was starting to slip through his fingers. This was especially worrying after it had looked like he was getting everything he had dreamed and schemed for. His idea of a perfect prisonwas everything going like clockwork**. **Both POs and prisoners knowing their place, having the pick and choice of women both sides of the wire, being given a free hand from the governor and most of all, becoming a permanent suit. He was so nearly there. He had at last seen Betts off the premises, manhandled between two burly policemen. That was his moment of triumph, as he knew very well that Betts spitting in his face was a demonstration of her impotence. True, Grayling was mad enough to appoint Di Barker as wing governor over his head but he wasn't that dissatisfied. She would be sure to make a pig's breakfast of the job sooner or later. In reality, he would pull the strings on the wing, leaving Mad Dog Barker in fantasyland. He was back where he belonged. Only Atkins was a threat, and after that, came that new stroppy dyke, Yates.

Everything suddenly changed when that interfering dyke Wade came back for the day, sticking her oar in. He couldn't believe his ears and eyes when she came swanning into the PO room, as bold as brass. He'd thought he'd seen the back of both her and Stewart. There was something even more dangerous about her manner right now. She was always cocky and disrespectful**,** but there was an added edge of confidence and authority about her that he'd not seen before. Most worrying of all was that he hadn't got to hear what she and Atkins had been cooking up. If Barker had been on the ball and got the bitch to stick to a prearranged properly organised itinerary, he might have even got the segregation block bugged. He had always sworn by his knack in watching out to see trouble brewing and nip it in the bud first. Whenever he had control of a situation and everything conformed to his expectations, he felt safe. What scared him were situations getting out of his control.

He had watched Atkins every move and it started to worry him that she seemed chirpier than she had been before the visit. That spelled trouble as it seemed to him that she'd put some spine into that smack**-**head wimp Hedges. At one time he seemed ready to buckle under and be brought back into line. He had no one left to hold his hand for him except Uncle Jim. Now, Hedges was getting too uppity for his liking. As soon as Betts was out the door, he had blatantly fiddled it for Atkins to go down the block as his celebration of total power. When Atkins came off the block and was interviewed by Grayling and Di Barker, she behaved suspiciously mildly when she ought to have mouthed off at them and got herself deeper in the shit.

All these worries took his energies and left him no time to wonder how Betts trial was going. All he knew was that he'd covered his tracks perfectly so no way would he get to hear further about the matter.

*******

"Don't see you round these parts? You need to mix in with all the girls," Yvonne observed as she passed by Kris Yates' cell.

"All I want is to be well out of here. I can't stand this frigging place," Kris Yates shouted with a sudden display of anger, her eyes shooting venom.

"I told you that was mad stuff, trying to get out through the old hanging cells. It might have shown a way out in bloody eighteen hundred and ninety six**,** but even these lazy wankers would have sealed the bugger up. Mind you, I came close to legging it through there, with a bit of help from my daughter."

"Fenner really winds me up. It's as if he's asking for trouble – and he'll get it," muttered Kris to herself.

" It takes a lot of front to stand up to Fenner. He's a nasty bastard," Yvonne said sympathetically. She had seen the two of them spark against each other. It was a bit the same as Nikki and Fenner except her old mate had more self control and style in needling him. Straight aggression played into his hands.

"I hate his frigging guts," Kris said explosively. "So that bastard's just going to be allowed to push us around. I'll swing for him."

She was new, Yvonne reckoned, but she'd learn. She'd have to if she wanted to survive.

"Don't let him get to you, Kris. Just back off. Don't act the bloody hero and fight him on his terms. You need to box clever to get back at him."

"Selena, I mean Miss Geeson, tells me that," Kris confided in a suddenly softer tone of voice to Yvonne's mixture of firmness and persuasion. Yvonne's face didn't change her facial expression but her poker playing instincts made her keep a straight face, never letting the other person know what she knew.

"She's new about these parts. As a screw, she's not bad. She sees a lot of you." This was a statement, not a question and Kris recognized that nothing passed by this other woman unnoticed. Her suspicious nature didn't let her betray confidences easily.

"She's my personal officer. She's keen, asked for the most difficult prisoner to get stuck into. So what's with the personal questions?"

"Nothing, nothing," Yvonne answered, raising her hands to display her conciliatory nature. "What you do that's personal and doesn't harm anyone**… **stays personal."

"Come to think of that, what's with your heart to heart talk with that Nikki Wade?" Kris demanded aggressively, feeling insecure at this sharp woman's suggestion of knowing her deep secrets. That dark haired glamour woman who was just as sharp had similarly rattled her. She didn't want any nosy cow knowing about her relationship with Selena.

"If you're so bleeding smart, you should know that I'm straight and Nikki's a lesbian. We're old mates from when she was a lifer on this wing. She got out on appeal and besides doing an inspection on this dump, is checking out how come Betts got stitched up. There's a top private eye and Stewart, the old wing governor before Betts, is also on the case. Ten to one it was Fenner's who stole Betts' car and murdered that guy and they're out to prove it."

Instantly, Yvonne regretted her rush of words that came out of her mouth. What in hell was she doing blabbing all these secrets? She must have had a rush of blood to her head. That was stupid of her in not sticking to her rule that the best-kept secrets were locked inside her head and she kept schtum.

"Kris, I warn you to keep your gob shut about what I've said. If you get Fenner on your case, you don't blab. If I had my way, anyone who spills the beans gets kneecapped. I mean it. There's too much at stake."

Yvonne wasn't sure whether to scare the shit out of this woman or talk nicely to her and ended up doing a bit of both. At the end of the day, she just had to trust her and keep her ears open.

"Who the hell do you think I am, Yvonne? Fenner's best mate?" Kris said cockily. Yvonne didn't answer. Already she was starting to have her doubts.

********

"I've got a little job for you, Hedges," snarled Fenner, pushing himself into the smaller man's personal space." I've a feeling that Atkins is running a nice number… dealing drugs, just like her old man did on the outside. I even feel that there's a stash in her cell even as we speak. You're my mate so you're going to give her cell a spin and find it."

"How do you know?" came the reassuringly nervous reply.

"Trust Mr. Savvy," came the answer with an evil leer.

"I ain't gonna be your errand boy. If you're so sure, you do it," came the sharper reply as the man stood taller in his shoes.

"That's a pity…..I feel a little bird will tell the Number One about your smack habit."

"You take me down and I'll take you down. You really think Grayling likes you?"

Fenner's mouth set tight, his face turned red and his eyes glared. Hedges had hit a sensitive spot and his unexpected resistance unnerved him. Fenner didn't know what the other man knew about him.

"You haven't heard the last of this, Hedges. Just count the days you're still here."

He stalked off in a state of frustrated rage.

******

"Yates, clean up your cell. It looks like a pigsty. Just look at it, all your clothes on the floor," he snarled ten minutes later, strewing the contents of her wardrobe on the floor.

"What in hell's up with you? I suppose you like to see women on their bended knees," stormed Kris.

"Something like that."

"You're really starting to get on my tits."

"Aah, that's tough love," jeered Fenner at the woman's increasing fury. "I'm the boss round here. Whatever I want you to do, you'll do."

"You think you're Mr. Superman? Someone'll come along and fix your wagon."

"Such as who?"

"Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart for two. They're checking out about the guy that got run over. I've been asking around. Seems strange that Miss Betts was a nurse once**… **yet goes on a bender and gets involved in a hit and run accident. If I can work that one out, the police can put two and two together," sneered Kris with that delicious feeling of really winding him up and watching him squirm.

Fenner's face turned red with rage and raised his fist aloft. Kris took a step back as his fist quivered with incandescent rage**, **yet his deepest fears rushed to the surface and stopped himself on the brink. At moments like this, his mind worked like lightning and in the fraction of a second, realized that he'd have to end up writing yet another official report to cover up another prisoner being beaten up or worse. Instinct told him that he was hovering on the edge of disaster. Suddenly, that calculating part of him turned off the temperature as if he had been unplugged and he switched to coldly calculating. He knew what he must do and realized that it was if those bitches had been asking for him to come back into his life. After all, he reasoned, they didn't have to cross his path. If they kept out of his way, he would keep out of theirs. They weren't that far away if they were in touch with Betts which, a pound for a penny, they were. It wouldn't be that hard to trace them wherever they were each living. It was even possible that they'd cosied up together. His mind started turning over at express speed as to how he could trace them. Suddenly, he couldn't give a shit about this dyke bitch before him. She could keep. He had much more immediate dangers.

*******

"You stupid bitch. What the hell were you doing blabbing off like that. I told you to keep your mouth tight shut. That bastard could do anything," yelled Yvonne at the top of her voice, a mixture of rage and fear running through her system. . For once, Kris was silent, aware of how stupid she'd been. Yvonne was all too fearful of what had been accidentally unleashed and scared shitless that she hadn't got Nikki's address and phone number for all their shared intimacies. The screws were watching her twenty four seven and she'd be hard put to trace the two women. Fenner, on the other hand, would find that far too easy. All her instincts were very, very afraid for what might happen.


	20. Chapter 20

**Scene Twenty **

Unknown to Nikki while the rumbling drama at Larkhall threatened to overspill its boundaries in all directions, Nikki was on her lunch break. She was getting some fresh air after studying the government's latest national statistics for prisoners. It was dry as dust figure work**, **but no one knew better than her the human lives that were so coldly yet necessarily measured. She was looking round the market stalls at the back of where she worked when a familiar face from the past came into view.

"Hi Tony," exclaimed Nikki." Remember me?"

"Of course I do," came the enthusiastic reply.

The man's face lit up as he saw the prospect of congenial company to lighten up his day. Nikki looked obviously happier and more prosperous but otherwise hadn't changed from first impressions.

"It's great to see you around in these parts. What are you doing?"

"I'm getting nowhere in scouring round the market but otherwise, I'm doing fine."

"Do you have to carry on doing that?"

"Not if there's something better to do."

"In that case, why don't you join me in a coffee at Starbucks? I'm on a longish lunch-break so I've got the time."

"There's nothing I'd love better as I've got the afternoon off."

The day for both of them suddenly brightened up as they rattled away at each other. It felt good for both of them to have congenial company. They both had a lot of catching up to do. Nikki led the way back to the main road and the sun shone brightly down on them both**, **as a breeze blew gently down the street. The world looked colourful and the range of cafes and small shops gave a sense of a thriving sense of community. Everything felt at piece. The two of them found their way into the café and found a quiet spot to share a café latte. They sat back comfortably in their chairs with a mug of coffee each. Nikki lit a cigarette, which she held between the fingers of her right hand as a pointer for conversation. Everything felt reassuringly normal.

" I saw you walking by on the opposite side of the street, oh, two months back and despite my calling out to me, you never heard me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Nikki. I must have been rushing around on my lunch-break and in a world of my own."

"No problems Tony**,** as we're here right now," Nikki said cheerfully to ease the man over his obvious embarrassment.

"So, how's your new job coming along?" Tony asked.

"I don't want to make you jealous but it's going great. It's the sort of job that could have been designed around me, plenty of research to get stuck into and a chance to think for myself. I can do my bit to help gently move changes along for prisoners and campaign against the ideas written on the back of a fag packet**…** that would cause misery for everyone. Also, I've got a boss who's both supportive, intuitive and knows when and how to gently step in."

"You've found a female boss who's a human being for a change, not some petty Hitler type," he commented

"Strange though it might seem, Tony, my boss is a guy." Nikki said with a wry smile." He's great and I respect him…..so come on, Tony, how about you? Have you started to dig your escape tunnel yet?"

"You might be interested to know, I've just found an agency and I'm going to put my name down. You know me, Nikki. I'll take it a step at a time. I'll get there in the end."

"See that you do, Tony. Your talents are wasted where you are. I mean it. I'm not saying it just for the sake of it."

"I know. You always have been straight with me."

There was a pause in the conversation and trails of cigarette smoke wafted up towards the ceiling as both of them fell into a reflective silence.

"So what else are you doing with your life, these days?" Nikki asked at last.

"I'm sorry to say that my life is, as you might expect of me, fairly humdrum as always."

"Can't you just break out in some unexpected direction, Tony? You might enjoy it," she teased.

"Having said that, I did have an unusual experience the other day. Nothing to write off to the papers about."

"You don't mean you assassinated that straight laced idiot that both of us have suffered under? Don't disappoint me?"

"Sorry to say, Nikki but it's a bit of a puzzle, nothing special. I was walking along the back streets of Docklands London having got myself lost in trying to find a takeaway place and this green sports car drove up and stopped. I could see the man's head darting round all different directions and at one time, looked my way. I guess he didn't see me as I was in the shadows. I was about to walk over and ask him the way only for some peculiar reason**.** He then dragged out this blond wig and smeared lipstick on. As soon as he did that, he started up the engine and roared off down the road."

Nikki's eyes opened wide in astonishment at this bombshell Tony quietly dropped on her.

Her mind was racing before at last she spoke slowly and softly.

"I think I can find the answer to this one. This may be more important than you can imagine….can you pin a date when this all happened?"

Tony paused for reflection

"It was definitely a Friday. I'd say about four weeks ago."

"About? Would it have three or five weeks?"

"Let me get my pocket diary out," Tony said of his pocket in his most methodical fashion while Nikki hung on his words," Ah let me see, it was Friday August 19th."

Nikki's first instinct was to jump to her feet in jubilation until a sobering thought struck her and she replied in a flat tone of voice, ready to be disappointed. After all, what average member of the public noted or remembered details like these?

"You didn't manage to get the registration number of the car, did you?"

"I think you might be in luck. I've got it down in my diary as MHL 324L." he said pointing to his neatly inscribed writing in the notes page of his diary.

Nikki's heart leapt inside her and she got to her feet and did a little impromptu standing up jig of jubilation. Her answer was level yet trembled with emotion. Once she had been scornful of the anally retentive office worker mentality**, **but she was overjoyed that it had come good for her.

"I guarantee your life won't stay humdrum from now on if you want it. You're the vital witness to a crime and you've filled in the missing piece of a jigsaw. Karen who used to be wing governor at Larkhall Prison had her car stolen and a guy stole her car, ran over an innocent pedestrian and framed her for murder."

As this stream of words went right past the man, Nikki slowly and lucidly ran through the account of what had happened, repeating herself on occasion as her account was most extraordinary now she heard herself tell it. This nightmare world of the lethal conflicts in her world came back as she talked. Jesus, she thought, even she was starting to have trouble in believing what she'd seen. Prison was another world, cut off from the world she lived in. It had that intense, febrile atmosphere, punctuated by periods of purposeless boredom. Looking through Helen's eyes, she had understood how lonely and disconnected her partner had felt, that formal power hadn't been all it was cracked up to be.

Tony's eyes were wide open as a flood of mixed emotions poured through him like a tidal wave. At first, everything felt formless, like a TV film he was watching. It was only after a little while when he could grasp some sort of pattern. He first picked out a mixed sense of fascination and horror at the story Nikki was telling. Larkhall prison sounded like a lunatic asylum. His thoughts skipped sideways as he felt a growing sense of anger at the women he worked with who knew so little of his friend**, **yet they thought they knew so much. He knew Nikki was strong and determined but he had underrated her. His heart started to go out to this woman he never knew**,** who was in serious danger of being imprisoned for something **s**he didn't do and he felt corresponding anger at the man who was responsible for the death of an innocent passer by. It could have been him or anyone else whose only mistake was to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was only as Nikki rounded into her conclusion when the penny started to drop and the awful truth dawned on him.

"I'm no lawyer, Tony, but I'd reckon that your evidence could make a difference to Karen staying free or going down."

"Do you mean me giving evidence in court, Nikki?" he stammered.

"There isn't any other way for what you saw to get a proper hearing," she gently urged.

"I need to think about this, Nikki. It's a big commitment."

Tony was hit with a flood of mixed emotions. In one way, his narrow circumscribed life was a comfortable rut to give him definition. In another sense, he was emotionally choking from the restrictions imposed on him. He really did want out from his job and he had taken the first step to change his job. In his own mind, he had mentally signed up to something different. It was only when Nikki had changed jobs when he realised how much of a difference to his life Nikki had made as a friend. He was now in danger of reverting back into a state of isolation, alienated from those he worked with.

He felt that he was approaching the crossroads of his life and what he decided to do now would make a difference.

"OK, I'll do it, Nikki," he found his lips saying to his surprise. There it was. The words were out at last. He had committed himself.

Nikki's eyes lit up in total joy and exaltation flung her arms round him and gave him a big hug. When she broke away from him, she shook his hand enthusiastically. She had anxiously watched Tony's face as it mirrored the obvious doubt and confusion in his mind. She was forgetting, of course, that she'd appeared in court and had handled herself well, that she numbered amongst her friends the odd barrister, solicitor and high court judge. As far as she knew, this was a new world to Tony. She mentally vowed to himself that he would get all the support and encouragement that he needed.

"You can't believe I'm grateful I am, Tony, and so will others. You're a real star. I hope you don't mind if I phone up the private eye who's on the case?"

"Go ahead, Nikki," Tony said evenly. The sun shone down into the café and a half smoked cigarette end smouldered in the ashtray while inconsequential conversations about favourite TV programmes surrounded them.

"Shirley Cheetham here," the familiar voice intoned as Nikki spoke excitedly into her mobile and into the other woman's ear. A big grin of satisfaction split her face into two as she gleefully savoured the news. This was exactly what she wanted.

"You've cracked it, Nikki. I've got an important lead on this case and your friend clinches it. We'll all meet up as soon as."

"Your friend has my sympathy," Tony said quietly as soon as the call was finished. "Perhaps, I need to do something like this for myself, Nikki. I've hung round in the background for far too much of my life."

This was a big stretch for Nikki's imagination but she got there. She'd always stuck her oar into situations and knew she couldn't change the way she behaved. Perhaps Tony, like Helen, had to go through changes in his life to find out just who he was. Personally, she always thought he had more nerve and courage than he credited himself with.


	21. Chapter 21

Scene Twenty-OneSince George had confided in him, John had hardly regained his peace of mind despite outward appearances. In fact, he was spiralling further out of control.When he got back to his digs that night, he shut himself up in his room, poured himself the first stiff measure of whisky, and knocked it back. This was unusual for him, as he preferred to savour his drinks, like everything else in his life. The fact that he had slept with a nameless woman the night before was hardly the point**,** as that was pure sex and the crisis in his life was about love and feeling loved. He shook his head, almost laughing as his mind skidded off as the first thought grabbed his attention**.** The ridiculous thing was that this happened just as he had sensed a rapprochement between George and himself. Jo Mills had been his long time lover but she had delicately backed away from an 'on off' relationship that had run for years. In the past, she had been his one political ally for years**,** with a similar outlook on the justice system while he had been the outcast, set apart from the brethren. They were all traditional, died in the wool conservatives and unable to see the bigger picture as political liberties were gradually being stolen from them. Now they had woken up and he had led an outrageously effective counter strike against them. Now John was in the curious position of being at the center of influence without retracting one single principle. Strangely enough, George had seen the light at last and had broken with Haughton. Life should have reached the peak of fulfillment and satisfaction and now his successes felt hollow, as his personal life had been turned upside down.

He had prided himself in being a progressive liberal campaigner in his views and actions, not least in the way he'd brought up Charlie. He'd made friends with those two very remarkable women, Nikki and Helen, full well knowing of their sexuality. Other male judges might have felt challenged and threatened by their very existence but he had felt a sense of kinship with them. It was clear that there was a mutual admiration society between them. It gave him a sense that his life and beliefs were as one so that the bombshell George had dropped on him disorientated him so much.

Suddenly, he picked up the phone. He knew what he had to do.

********

"Oh, come on John," Nikki said, several hours later, all the concerned affection of the world in her voice as they debated over a drink on a warm night. It wasn't the first they had had together. **"**It would be all very nice and orderly if all the straight people in the world were in one box and all the gay people in the world in another. You're finding out that life isn't like that. Years ago, I had affairs with straight women who used me as some kind of an experiment before going back into 'normality' so I got to be so paranoid about being cheated on. Helen knows all about that to her sorrow.""That's very kind of you, Nikki but that's only part of the problem. Part of me intellectually feels that the only permissible prejudices are against lack of humanity, dishonesty and obsequious careerism……" "…and intolerance and narrow mindedness, don't forget them…," added Helen brightly." You've left that out." "Quite right, Helen," added John appreciatively before the smile on his face promptly disappeared." My problem is that, OK, George and I have been apart for years, largely due to my compulsive infidelity. She'd changed recently, she's come to share some of my beliefs and whatever antagonisms between us had burned themselves out. Just at that point, when it looked as if we have the chance of a future together, she falls in love with another woman." "Did you talk to George about getting back with her?"

"In a roundabout way, and in an equally roundabout way, she graciously declined."

"So why did she refuse you?"

"I really don't know." John said with a studiously blank expression on his face. He winced slightly as the two women looked sharply at him. It made him feel uncomfortable.

"Lets put it another way, John. You give me a pen picture of George."

John felt on easier ground. This belonged to the world of facts. This he could cope with.

"George was always a woman of the world**…** even when we were both young. She's always liked the material things in life and power and position in the world. She has always had an iron shell and conceals her feelings very well."

"Meaning that you reckon she'd get back with you and overlook your personality foibles which are bound to sink your relationship. Are you sure George is as hard as you make her out to be? We've seen her down at 'Chix' and she comes over as totally charming and seeking some honest way of expressing herself, as if she's eager to learn a new language. She's certainly tough enough when she's in court as we've both seen. I hate to say it, John but Alice has been a good influence on her."

"So it comes down to this. I can't be sure if all this is just my hopes being disappointed or an unconscious prejudice against gay women coming to the surface that I can't admit to…." "John, you're talking a load of crap," Helen exclaimed. "The hardest thing to deal with is that someone who you once loved has found someone else who is more suited." "It happens that way, John," added Nikki." Trisha, my ex, has had to get used to me being around Helen. It can make you feel kind of inadequate, diminished and it takes real courage to rise above it and be that generous to your ex. At least she'll do better with Alice than with that politician guy." "That's easier to handle," John sprang back with alacrity." I knew Haughton and could so easily despise him and despair endlessly of George's lousy choice of men." "Whereas you don't know Alice. You know that George is changing for the better and Alice must therefore be at least halfway decent. You can't get away from that," Helen said softly as she slid in that logical conclusion. **"**That's nothing to do with homophobia. You may be a novice to the quote gay scene unquote**,** but you're the last guy to revert to primitive caveman mentality."

John stared at the two kindly women as his mind sought to deal with this blinding flash of enlightenment. They were both incredibly kind and understanding. It took away some of the feeling of hurt that had been gnawing at his insides. He could see things less from his trapped point of view and move to a more universal approach.

"I'm sorry for coming over and burdening you with my troubles. I'm really grateful to you both," he muttered, his eyes downcast.

"You're welcome to come round any time that's convenient, John. I told you that before. What intrigues me is that there's something here that makes you feel especially relaxed, the same as when you stopped over last time."

Both women knew that John was vastly understating his feelings of gratitude. It didn't matter as they got his feelings. The night felt especially calm and everything felt at peace. John wasn't to know that both women were used to such conversations at 'Chix' in bolstering up other women who had their trials and tribulations. This felt no different**,** as this was what they were there for. Helen thought fondly how John's male pride couldn't humbly admit his gratitude more than these awkward words. It didn't matter to her.

"That's a very good question," John said at last very slowly as he turned the idea over in his mind. **"**All I can say is that it feels safe. I've stayed over at women's flats many times, but this feels different…..I know very well that any relationship with you must be pure friendship or not at all. That stabilizes me. Of course, I enjoy intelligent conversation with you both and I feel that I'm in the same area of life as you are. Sorry that I can't be more specific than that."

"That makes sense to us," Helen said, yawning as she spoke." God, I'm tired."

"You've had way too much to drink, John," Nikki observed." You're stopping on the sofa?" she said, hardly a question. John nodded his head gratefully. He couldn't bear to return to the loneliness of his digs." Come on, let's all turn in."

************* **

The man crept along the dark street, dressed in dark trousers, overcoat and wearing a woollen hat on his head. His eyes manically darted all around him and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. At last, he found the address that he sought. It was a large Georgian house, set back a little way from the road with big front bay windows. The front door was a large stout wooden affair and, even with glass panes wasn't about to submit easily to his bagful of tools. Instinct made him believe that the side or back of the house might be an easier proposition and he'd be less conspicuous. He was delighted to see a wooden fence at the side of the building that could easily be climbed over. Once there, luck was again on his side as such a warm night meant that the sash window was left slightly open. He'd hoped for that as it meant that he needn't have to forcibly break into the flat. He pushed upwards to ease the window up, a bit at a time. He grinned in an evil fashion**,** as he knew now that he'd be able to scare the shit out of those bitches who he'd tracked down. He'd have the advantage on them as no one can fight back when they're half dressed or not dressed at all. Accordingly, he rolled gently sideways off the empty kitchen draining board and landed lightly on his plimsolled feet with hardly a sound. The way was wide open now.


	22. Chapter 22

Scene Twenty Two

Inside the house, a human form curled up on the settee pricked up his ears. He heard faint sounds, foreign to the house. Something felt wrong.

In the main bedroom, Helen and Nikki were curled up together in dreamland, in the most peaceful sleep of their lives when a deafening crash smashed its way into their perceptions followed by a painfully illuminating blaze of white light. Both women instinctively clung together, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Was this some simultaneous bad dream?

"You bitches. You thought you'd put one over me. This is payback time. You'll regret that you ever stuck your interfering dyke noses into my business. I'll make sure you're sorry," snarled that hated voice whose owner's footsteps they had been dogging. To the horrified women, this was a vision from hell. This couldn't be happening. They were only aware of split second confused impressions of the glowering features of the man they most hated above all till the light blinded them again.

"Fenner," exclaimed Helen, feeling mingled rage and helplessness. Half blinded, dressed in a skimpy nightie, an overpowering feeling of inadequacy to fight back while his presence in their flat made her feel violated. She felt humiliated to be at such a disadvantage.

"We'll report you to the police," gasped Nikki at last, the law-abiding citizen.

"Will you, Wade? I've still got that bus ticket, 'Nurse Ford's' coat and that autographed book. You do that and your girlfriend's headed straight for the clink."

The two women were temporarily frozen in horror. After all their respectable existence, that old incident had come back to haunt them.

"You're wrong there," cut in the unmistakable male speaking voice in steely tones. Fenner jumped out of his skin at this unexpected twist. This was the last thing he expected**,** as John appeared barefoot, hair rumpled and dressed in black trousers and a white shirt.

"You're joking, granddad," Fenner sneered," I suppose you're Wade's dad?"

"Wrong again, Fenner," John answered in a perfectly controlled tone of voice though inwardly he was raging. He'd heard all about this man and he was just as evil as was described. The man was his natural enemy and John didn't need to be told which side to be on.

"So I suppose you get a kick out of two lezzer dykes," Fenner snarled." Very tabloid friendly."

"I've heard enough from you. Get out of here," snapped John, instantly squaring up for the fight that must be coming.

The two women's eyesight and ability to cope were both starting to return too normal. They were grateful for John's intervention but both women felt that this was their battle. They had mixed feelings about male testosterone taking charge of events.

"You're going to make me? You're ready to collect your old age pension," Fenner sneered.

"On behalf of my friends, I will," came the determined reply.

An evil grin spread across Fenner's face as he anticipated making short work of this ageing fool. He threw the first punch at John's face but mysteriously, the blow failed to land home. The same happened to his next wild swing at John's face. What he didn't know was that the older man had long experience of fencing and his razor sharp reactions enabled him to dodge this crude assault. At the crucial moment when Fenner was off balance, John hit the younger man with a left and a right. Fenner folded up under these unexpectedly deadly blows, red faced and gasping.

"Get out," John commanded in tones of barely restrained fury." Get out and never darken this flat again."

As the younger man failed to move, John grabbed him by the jacket collar and, with surprising strength, manhandled him to the front door. By now, both women had recovered from their astonishment at an unexpected side of John's accomplishments. Just as Helen was about to open the front door, Fenner made one last attempt to blackmail his way out of the situation.

"Those dykes will pay for this. Wade broke out of prison and she and Stewart were shagging. Harbouring an escaped criminal, they call it," Fenner snarled.

John's Olympian laughter beat this man verbally to his knees. Fenner felt humiliated by this man who had beaten him physically who now attacked him with crisp precise logic.

"You couldn't be further mistaken. I have it on the best authority, believe me. I helped hear Nikki Wade's reappeal at the Court of Appeal and her record was wiped clean. Therefore, harbouring an escaped incarcerated woman, if it ever happened is no crime."

As Helen opened the door, John slung him out of the door, down the short flight of steps to land spread-eagled on the pavement, his face bruised by the impact.

********

There was a faint but unmistakable swagger in John's manner as they made their way back to the living room. He was totally unprepared for the verbal onslaught.

"What the hell were you doing, John? Were you acting the knight-errant to rescue two damsels in distress? It's really your male ego at work. Don't you know that the two of us are pretty tough and can take out this bastard Fenner between us," Helen shouted angrily, her hair tousled and her eyes shooting green flame.

"Will you shut up the pair of you and listen to me," shouted John. "Taking out Fenner? Just what exactly do you mean by that? Both of you have far too much history with Fenner. He's Gossard in another form. If either of you had got your hands on him, you could have seriously overstepped the mark."

"So I am a violent cop killer after all," flared back Nikki. **"**Come on, say it, you say we might have killed him."

"Nikki, I'm as capable of as much violence as the next person. I'll tell you a story. A very dangerous enforcer for a crooked CEO of a mobile phone company came close to pushing Jo Mills out of a tenth floor window. He sabotaged my car, which Jo borrowed by accident. He caused her to run off the road at high speed, and she ended up in intensive care. When I'd just visited her in hospital, this man posing as a nurse tried to stab me with a syringe only my wallet was in the way by sheer luck. I turned round, smashed him in the back of the neck with an oxygen bottle, and while I lay on the ground, booted him hard in the ribs. I didn't kill him but I could have done. My story goes to show is that I know about my own capacity for violence. So far from disentitling me to remain a judge, I like to think that this gives me insight and understanding. It's about the situations that people choose to get into, sometimes by sheer accident, sometimes by choice. I apologize for the one and only time in my life that I'll ever impose on you but I hope you'll understand just why I acted the way I did."

Nikki stood open mouthed at John's almost unnaturally calm and precise tone of voice. She was astounded at what John had to say but, more than that, this flow of pure reason was filtered through her intellect and entered her soul. Helen was similarly dazzled by his incisive logic, which made solid unbreakable structures whose purity could not be gainsaid.

"Jesus, I can't believe what I'm hearing…but as it's coming from you, I trust you implicitly, John. I'm only sorry for shooting my mouth off at you."

"Me too. What worries me is aren't you're putting your own neck on the line," added Helen, concern written all over her face.

"I can get away with this fracas more easily than you two. Gut instinct tells me that it wouldn't take much for you to be dragged back into the public arena. I'm more securely placed because of my position. The last time a judge left his office prematurely was by resignation at century and a half ago. I can be impeached but it takes a vote of both houses of parliament to do so."

"If you weren't a judge, you'd make a great prison governor. You really think fast on your feet," said Helen admiringly. John's quick thinking drew her admiration.

John laughed heartily as he straightened out his clothing. He knew that this was Helen's highest compliment and he accepted the praise graciously.

"If some of the women at 'Chix' could see us now," Nikki said in her inimitably ironic take of the situation.

"The same might be said if the brethren saw us now," laughed John and Nikki and Helen joined him. They sank back on the sofa trying to mellow down for the night now that these emotional tensions had been cleared away. A warm feeling of comradeship united them.

"You beat the shit out of Fenner. Yvonne Atkins, a mate of mine still in Larkhall, would be very impressed."

"Do you regularly engage in fisticuffs or is this a 'two off' incident?" Helen added to Nikki's dry observation.

"Actually, there is a third occasion. A petty crook once gave evidence of supplying class 'A' drugs and buying stolen mobile phones and had done a deal with the CPS. I suggested that he'd been given an indecently light sentence and I promised to take this up with the attorney general. He lost his temper, charged over to assault me. I must confess I defended myself pretty robustly and effectively."

"It all happens in the busy life of John Deed," Helen said in gently affectionate tones and, to the amusement of both women, he visibly preened himself. He was a typical guy in some ways but they both felt a warm affection for him as they had got to know the man behind the charismatic judge and hero figure.

Suddenly a wave of tiredness swept over Helen as the emotional reaction hit her. While it was pleasant to listen to John's stories, she needed her bed. Neither she nor Nikki wanted to think how events could have turned out if Fenner had called on any other night.

"Come on, we'd better grab some sleep while we can. Thank God it's the weekend," sighed Nikki.

The three of them were bright enough to know how light hearted levity had a serious function in life in defusing the dark side of life. As John went back to the living room, he marvelled to himself that somehow, he hadn't really taken in the obvious physical charms of the two women. He couldn't work out why it was the case but it said something about his high regard for them both.


	23. Chapter 23

**Scene Twenty-Three **

What George expected to do on a nice calm Monday morning**, **was simply to pull together the case in a leisurely fashion over a cup of coffee. What she hadn't expected was a lengthy, intense phone call from Helen first thing in the morning**,** telling her of the break in the Friday before. She held her hands to her head for a while as it was obvious to her why John had visited Helen and Nikki. She was sure that he had visited the two women out of desperation. George hadn't been deceived by his apparent good humour when she last left him. She couldn't imagine John talking to his male friends about such matters. She ruled Jo Mills out as a confidante about such matters and John certainly didn't confide in matters of the heart to his casual pickups. The ironical thing was that good had come out of it all. While she smiled at John's male ego and his readiness to resort to fisticuffs, she was bloody glad he was there. Instantly, she phoned Claire who had had a similar prior phone call to come over, to exchange thoughts on where to take the case from there.

Claire asked her secretary to take any messages for her and nipped out of the office. She was down at George's office in no time at all, sipping a cup of tea. She had been looking forward to working with George again as she enjoyed her sharp intelligence, her hospitality and consideration.

"OK, this is the situation as I see it, Claire. Thanks to your excellent superspy, Shirley Cheetham, the case as it originally stood has changed out of all recognition and for the better. Nikki's highly observant friend has really done wonders for us and I hope he is the model witness in court."

"It's seems typical of anything connected with Larkhall Prison to be not what it seems," commented Claire and George agreed.

"On the face of it, the police had evidence of various witnesses who claimed to have seen Karen at the wheel of the car. Karen has consistently denied being the driver and was in all evening, only leaving her front room to take a shower. In their typically unimaginative way, the police think that everyone has alibis for whatever they do and they don't see that many single people's lives just don't work that way. The oldest excuse in the book has turned out to be the plain and simple truth.

We now have forensic evidence that Karen's flat was broken into. It makes it quite possible that her keys were stolen from inside. We have a reliable witness who'll testify that a man was seen putting a wig on and a precise identification of the car at the exact time and place that would fit in with the accident. We have CCTV evidence that shows a man possibly running away from the car and that Karen wasn't on the tape doing the same. That evidence must be run past Karen and check it's Fenner before we get our hopes up."

"I'll see to that."

"If she identifies him, we have another problem. What it doesn't show is him or anyone getting out of the car and we haven't got an up to date photo of Fenner. We need that and to get a cleaned up still from the CCTV evidence, and cross check it against a photograph of him.

Karen has given evidence of an almighty row between her and Fenner on the very day of the hit and run accident. The police must think that the emotional shock of it on top of resigning from her job caused her to get totally plastered and drive round like a lunatic. In reality, this provides a rock solid motive for Fenner to be guilty. I am grateful to your conversations with me, which have painted an exact picture of everyone concerned and of the sequence of events. What interests me is just what prompted him to break in on Nikki's and Helen's flat when he did?"

"Why on earth would the man think that they'd be out to bring him down? It must be free floating paranoia or else something must have triggered it off," added Claire.

"Good point, Claire but the really key question in my mind is whether or not the CPS could be prevailed to drop the charges against Karen, question Fenner and consider trying him instead."

"Hmmn, that's a tricky one. Just how bigoted and inflexible are the CPS on matters like this?" Claire questioned.

"No, no, Claire," George replied, smiling at Claire's innocence." Why ask the monkey when the organ grinder is the one who matters?"

"You mean this is another political hot potato?"

"It's bound to be. The name of Larkhall Prison has come back to haunt the Home Office yet again. The real question is whether or not sense of realism will come out on top over their stupid pride. The press have a field day with another prison officer, one whose record for general skullduggery may come out."

"Hang on a minute, George. We are uniquely placed through our contacts to know that but do the Home Office?"

"Not sure about that. It's a good point," admitted George.

"Who's the opposing barrister?"

"Brian Cantwell, thank God," the blond haired woman said with deep feeling. **"**They've given up on putting Frobisher up against me."

"In what way is that an advantage?" pursued Claire. **"**From what I've seen of him, he's more dangerous than Frobisher."

"His advantage is that he's willing to cut a deal. He's simply a hired gun, not stupid or pig headed. He is a slippery customer in court and you have to watch him like a hawk."

"Guess you'll have to try some of your feminine charm on him, George. He strikes me as susceptible to that."

George's smile slipped a little. Of course, she would have had no trouble with that a month or so ago. Back then**; **she'd been acting several parts, the hard and unprincipled barrister, Haughton's trophy partner and the heterosexual woman for all she knew. She'd been served an object lesson that the workings of her unconscious had been a mystery to herself. She didn't relish slipping on the mask again, not when she'd figured out some principles in her life. She frowned and fiddled with her elegant biro as she concentrated on the combined political and legal dynamics of the situation.

"I don't think I'll do it, Claire. Look at it this way and if I've got anything wrong, please put me right. As I see it, Karen's strongest defence will put another prison officer in the frame. You can't separate the two. She's in the public domain as a former wing governor who the hit and run driver**,** thanks to our wonderful tabloid press but Fenner is a serving prison officer with a supposedly clean record."

Claire smiled appreciatively at the heavy sarcastic edge George deployed in her character description. She'd heard everything to know about him from Helen and Nikki.

"Incidentally, where do we stand on Fenner being charged for breaking and entering?"

"Interesting point, Claire. I talked to John before you came over and he is thinking of 'recusing himself' if he were to be the trial judge. Fenner was guilty of breaking and entering, no doubt, but was involved in a fight, which could be considered six of one and half dozen of the other. Neither Nikki nor Helen has gone to the police as yet."

"A 'two off' situation is less easier to sweep under the carpet than a one off situation. Karen is the more expendable of the two of them……I know how morally contemptible that sounds," George added as Claire opened her mouth to protest at the moral squalor of such calculations….. "you have to think through their minds to anticipate what they'll do. Cantwell knows very well that if he concedes that Karen wasn't the murderer, he's throwing away half his defence of Fenner."

"So Karen's defence will involve stacking up the case against Fenner as the trial evolves and hopefully see him taken away in handcuffs"

"…and seeing that frightful ex of mine squirm with embarrassment," added George mischievously, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

They sipped their cups of tea thoughtfully in the restful silence. They might as well have clinked their cups together to toast the forthcoming battle. The sunlight streamed in through the large window, overlooking the street, bathing them in soft focussed sunlight.

"Can I leave it with Shirley to get an up to date photo of Fenner?"

"No problem."

"Our witnesses are as follows, Nikki, Helen, Karen, Tony and Shirley. Do we arrange another meeting and gather everyone together?"

"You mean as we normally do?" George answered softly, affection infused in every syllable. The other woman smiled her agreement. Their first case together established a marvellous sense of collaboration and this case established this as normal.

*******

Claire got back just in time for Nikki and Helen to make their entrance. She waved them through to her office and waited for them to speak. Helen was the first to speak in a stream of words that shot out of her mouth.

"I told you this morning how that bastard Fenner broke into our flat and we're figuring what's best to do. Naturally, we're going round it with a toothcomb to make absolutely sure that no one ever breaks in again. As yet, we haven't reported this to the police to have the bastard charged for breaking and entering. What we don't know is just how far to take it as we don't know what the hell caused this after over nearly a year of absolutely nothing."

After this, a tense silence fell on the room reflecting the two women's tense moods and uncharacteristic indecisiveness. The longer it went on, the more painful it felt for Claire**.** She'd known Helen for a long time and got to know that fiercely determined woman who fit in with her old friend so well. If they were at a loss to proceed, there was a real problem.

"You know that I'd represent you to the best of my ability on any case that came my way. It's just that……."

"We know very well that we'd have to approach the police," Nikki answered tersely.

Her unspoken words hammered home to Claire just what their dilemma was. While they had counted as friends some of the legal profession, the police was something different. The police was something different. Nikki considered them as primitive Neanderthals not too much removed from the prison officers she'd suffered under and Helen knew that her formal authority over the prison officers who'd worked for her was only in place by her cracking the whip. She couldn't hope to have that same pull over a foreign institution.

"There's another matter, Claire. We had a friend of ours stop the night, John Deed. You remember him from my trial. He crashed on our sofa the night of Fenner's break in, as he had his emotional troubles and fortunately he was around to knock the living daylights out of Fenner. What we don't want to do is to inadvertently land the poor guy in trouble."

Claire's eyes misted over at the two women's concern for him. She had too much respect for their intuition to dismiss them out of hand or to make false reassuring noises. In a way, it could be harder to give professional advice to those close to her where she had emotional involvement in their future.

"I can't advice you on this one. I can't produce a bunny out of the hat on this one. It all depends on what the police do on this one."

"That's OK Claire. You don't have to beat yourself up. Guess you can't have all the answers all the time," Nikki said, very gallantly.

The fact that Nikki was trying to be nice to her only made her feel worse, especially after the glowing positivity of her earlier meeting with George.


	24. Chapter 24

**Scene Twenty-Four **

Through his ever-resourceful PA, Coope, John had heard about the Karen Betts case that was nearing the time when it would be heard in court. His retentive memory had alerted him to the possibility that his punch up with Fenner made him far too dangerously placed to hear the case. True, there was no obvious connection between this altercation and a former wing governor up on trial for a hit and run accident. His recent experiences had made him far more attuned to strange possibilities. Very unusually, he sought out Sir Ian in the corridors of power.

"Ah, John, I don't see you so much these days. Your presence is most welcome," he said in his heartiest tone of voice. Only his suspicious eyes, flitting over the other man's features belied his apparent hospitality.

"I wanted to have a quiet word with you, Ian on a personal matter," John offered in his meekest tones. **"**I wanted to have a word about the Karen Betts case which is coming up for trial."

"Ah, you interest me," Sir Ian said, his fingers wrapped tightly around his biro and squeezing it hard.

"I wanted to ask to be recused from hearing the case if there ever was a suggestion of it coming my way."

Sir Ian let out a long breath of air as he heard the totally unexpected news. He was positive that the man would want to stick his interfering nose into the case and was psyching himself to argue the point.

"This is very unexpected news, John. You have had the reputation of seeking out contentious cases. Might I ask you for your reasons in case I, myself am asked for them?"

"That is easily answered. I got involved in a physical altercation with a prison officer who broke into a friend's house where I was stopping the night. His name is James Fenner and I understand from my sources of information that he was on the worst of terms with the accused."

"Is that all? He is surely a random stranger. He's surely unlikely to feature in this case."

"I'm just being careful, Ian," John murmured.

Again, Sir Ian wondered if his hearing was playing tricks on him. He squinted at John's immobile face and wondered what the devil this man was playing at. It surely couldn't be as easy as that.

"I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, John. Your views, of course will be noted," the other man said in stiff tones. **"**You will join me in a cup of tea unless you are busy?"

John pretended to study his watch. Sir Ian took that as a sign that the other man wished to go. He wasn't displeased at the response.

************

"Let's look at this logically," Helen said quietly as her fingers gently smoothed a lock of Nikki's hair as it curled over her forehead. **"**I'm just trying to work this through in my own mind and I can do it best if I talk through you. If you'd been asked a few years ago, about getting advice from the legal profession, how would you have felt?"

"Before I got sent down, they had nothing to say about my life. Afterwards, well my feelings would have been unprintable."

"Since you've come to know quite a few of them, now how do you feel?"

"I know they're human beings and they are for real. If I ask a question, I'll get a straight answer."

"So why are the police any different?"

"That's a good question," Nikki mused as they lay in bed one evening. She lay on her back and felt at her most relaxed while Helen's body was wrapped around hers. As she stroked Helen's back in a meditative fashion, their freshly washed bodies felt cleansed. They'd both been obsessing about the whole idea of battering at the gates of the police force and they both felt worn out. Lying next to each other seemed the obvious way of taking the stress out of their situation.

"I guess I still can't get away from some of those screws at Larkhall who work the rules and regulations against me. It's a case of heads they win, tails we lose if we make a formal charge. This is a criminal matter and we need to work through them."

"What about Sally Anne? She was a policewoman once."

"Yeah, that's the problem in a way," Nikki muttered. Sally Anne Howe had taken them to the cleaners for ninety thousand pounds. Sneakily, she couldn't help but think that Gossard would be seen as the martyred victim in their eyes, first at Sally's hands and next at her own. Her own name would bound to be remembered by some obsessive, vindictive copper.

"You know, Helen, I can't get my head round that one," Nikki said in a bemused tone of voice. "She seems too nice and gentle to be a policewoman. I can't see her sticking a pair of handcuffs on someone."

"What about those two policewomen in the club, Ros and Jenny? They were nice enough and I could imagine them in uniforms, acting all tough and macho."

"Shirley phoned up earlier on and advised us in her inimitable way that, 'there must be some female coppers who go to that dyke club of yours. Couldn't they give you inside information of your chances of getting the bastard done for breaking and entering?' She's right of course, but I still feel on tenterhooks about waiting to get to talk to them and wishing that you hadn't heard the bad news.

Helen had to smile affectionately at the way Nikki put it and at the way that very helpful private investigator was on the ball and missed nothing. She had the feeling that if she could only think laterally enough, they might chance upon an answer and it nagged at her like a migraine headache.

"It means that we'd get advice without necessarily committing ourselves. I'm sure that's really been bothered us. Once you make it official, you can't take it back."

Nikki's hands reached up for Helen's face and gently drew her down to give her a soft, lingering kiss. She'd expressed exactly the fears that had been gnawing at her for days and had blocked her normal thinking. At least they knew how each other felt with their part solution. Her heart went out to the dearest friend she could ever hope to have who was also her lover. She kissed Helen again, only with more sensuality and not just gratitude and the smaller woman began to caress Nikki. Their bodies began to move together in rhythms of their own which would ease the stress of the last few days.

********

The next day, Sir Ian's had an appointment with Sir Alan Peasemarsh, the Attorney General. The older man wore his cold patrician air like a suit of armour, exhibiting his disdain for emotional scenes. His mannerism of carefully combing his white hair backwards along his scalp betrayed his nervousness as Sir Ian told him his story. "You puzzle me, Ian. I would have thought that Deed would have jumped at the opportunity. Perhaps he knows something that we don't?" "He seemed very obliging." "You mean suspiciously so?"

"It sounds like you want him to be actively mischievous."

"At least I know where I stand with him in such moments," confessed the older man frankly, dropping his veneer of aristocratic calmness. **"**Right now, he worries me."

"You mean that this is a plain single bluff as opposed to a double or triple bluff."

Both men fell into deep silence as they thought of the endless permutations. This sounded like a three-dimensional game of chess where the rules of the game changed in a random fashion. Finally, the older man made an impatient gesture and cut through the endless possibilities.

"I've made up my mind, Ian. If Deed wants something, the soundest course of action is to refuse him. The two barristers involved are George Channing and Brian Cantwell, quite a fiery combination for Deed to handle. Additionally, there are signs that George and Deed are becoming close and that will give him plenty to think about without giving legitimate grounds for him to back out. It will test the situation and hopefully the trial will drive a wedge between the two of them. You know how volatile George is and what a troubled history they have."

"The reasoning appears sound."

"Oh yes, that wing governor is guilty as charged, isn't she?"

"The CPS can't see a crack in the case. Even Deed couldn't steer the case in an unforeseen direction to god knows where," Sir Ian commented sarcastically.

The two men were much cheered by their plans. Whatever happened, they had to win.

**********

These days, Yvonne had learned to take things carefully. At the best of times, Fenner was a nasty bastard but he was on a particularly short fuse, not helped by Kris blabbing her mouth off. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was the knowledge to take things easy. She clung to the assurance that Nikki was operating behind the scenes, in the outside world where her Lauren couldn't operate.

She had never forgotten the feeling of sheer jubilation as Nikki appeared twice on TV laying into those bastards and she could have sworn that she'd seen her in the group scene when that female ex copper did the same about the very same copper who Nikki took out. The trouble was that the screws hadn't forgotten it either and her visit had given them the jitters.

Somehow, they didn't quite have the swagger the way they used to straight after Karen Betts had been arrested. For all that, the atmosphere was jumpy and anyone who pushed it got a shit time of it. While the spiteful but ineffective Mad Dog Barker periodically stomping petulantly round the wing, Fenner posing the greater threat. These days, Fenner didn't offer the double-edged favouritism that Dockley used to lord it over other prisoners. He hated everyone equally. In the background, Grayling glowered as he walked around the wing Only Hedges tried to soften the edges and there was only so much he could do**,** as he was definitely not the flavour of the month of Fenner, Barker or Grayling. Thinking about what Nikki had said, she had accepted that Fenner would have to be nailed the legit way.

One thing she was sure of was that Kris was no replacement for Nikki. Despite her tough manner, she wasn't street smart and she hadn't had that sense of tactics. In any case, she kept herself to herself except that that new screw Geeson was seeing a lot of her. She shrugged her shoulders as she had personal business to take care of. Denny was being given a chance of a transfer to an open prison and both women had mixed feelings. From Denny's point of view, it was a step closer to freedom even as Yvonne's own sentence hadn't got too much longer to run. The trouble was that they'd be separated from each other for many months. Denny felt strange about the idea of the privilege, as she's spent a vital chunk of her life at Larkhall. She'd changed so much since she'd been here and the place felt peculiarly like home.

As he hesitated in the PO room, Fenner was bricking it and doing his best to conceal it before he came out on the wing. He had grazes on his face where he had collided with the steps outside the flat after John Deed had thrown him out. To his alpha male mentality, he was totally humiliated by being beaten up by this old man. Worse still was that his attempts to put the frighteners on those two bitches had backfired badly.

"Can't you walk without falling over your own feet, Fenner?" Kris taunted. Yvonne cringed at her lousy sense of tactics. She really hadn't the knack of when not to needle someone or when to pull back.

"A word with you in your cell, Yates- now," he snapped, pushing her up the flight of steps, making her stumble and curse. Finally, he threw the cell door open, grabbed hold of her arm, twisted it behind her back and forced her face against the rough painted brickwork of the cell.

"One more word from that fat lezzer gob of yours and you're down the block. I'm God on this wing and no shit-stirring bitch inside or outside will do anything about it. You're on report, got it," he snarled into her ear, gripping her arm with manic tightness.

"OK I get it," Kris shouted. She didn't want to be scared of this screw but he really was an unpredictable head-case. Both Selena and Yvonne had separately urged her to control her anger. She knew they were both right but it made no sodding difference as something in his arrogance got her goat every time.


	25. Chapter 25

**Scene Twenty-Five**

In a backhanded way, Fenner wasn't the only one to have lesbians on the brain as Joseph Channing was still trying to get his head round the idea of George's new partner. It went completely counter to his upbringing. He was steeped in his died in the wool conservative background and had duly striven for success in his chosen field to bring up his family. His wife had died tragically when his daughter was young and he had done his best to lavish his love on her and make up for the loss of her mother. George had been richly endowed with all the feminine graces, being lively, charming, quick witted and had been the apple of his eye. True, he might have spoiled her and indulged her willfulness but at the same time, he knew that she had always had a clear idea where she was going in life. It accounted for the way that**, **when she was in her teens, she had picked up boyfriends and deposited them by the wayside at the drop of a hat. She was fortunate to study law just at a time when the first women came into the legal profession and as much though he had fulminated about the country going to the dogs, he was secretly pleased as it meant that once more, a Channing would don the traditional wig and gown.

What he could never understand was what she had ever seen in John Deed. He had everything going for him that Joseph disapproved of. John was a modern liberal who insisted in using the time-honoured laws of England for highly suspect purposes. Furthermore, he was the original rakish man with that suspect charm that, unaccountably, women found devilishly attractive. What's worse was that John's father was a baker from Birmingham and he remembered only too well his mounting nervousness about John and George's wedding. He had to concede, against his better wishes, that his time spent at Eton and Oxford had given him acceptable manners but he still cringed at John's father's and sister's uncouth manners.

"Mark my words," he had warned her endlessly," You have married the wrong man. You'll live to regret it."

"Oh daddy," she counter argued," if it was left to you, you would have married me off to some chinless Hooray Henry. Every one of them is just weak and ineffective. Believe me, I've tried them out."

The arguments had gone on and he could never find a satisfactory counter argument. When George's marriage finally broke up, he had very discreetly wrapped up his 'I told you so' line of reasoning very tactfully, or so he thought to himself. He knew very well that there was a touch of silver-tongued guile about him. Of course, what did she do but pick up that awful Neil Haughton as a potential partner. He took an instant dislike to the man, he saw him as shallow, charmless a philistine, a second hand salesman chap and he immediately made his views clear to her.

"But daddy, I thought you wanted me to marry into money. He's rich, successful, ambitious, charming. Your problem is that there is no man good enough for your daughter," protested George with that teasing smile about her.

Joseph Channing growled and grumbled back at her, wishing that the brains that had made her such a formidable barrister should be so cruelly used against him. Life was so unfair.

Times started to change when that frightful man had threatened to introduce a bill that would restrict the power of judges. Joseph had come to see that his original calculations had been wrong and that John had been right all along. He had come to reevaluate his position in terms of his relationship with the political apparatus. This had divided him from Sir Ian Rochester who had thrown in his lot with the government. He had come to change his attitudes in recent months to see himself as a bit of a rebel after all. He had discovered that age had not mellowed him, quite the reverse. He realized that he was disinclined to blindly follow any party line but to make up his own mind. By some mysterious process, the brethren had forgotten their old petty rivalries and formed up behind John as leader. After all, he had been the most intransigent Bolshevik of them all and it was interesting how his advice came to seem as wisdom. A lifetime of frosty relations with John had thawed and he had come to enjoy chatting with him, locking horns with him in friendly debate.

George had changed mysteriously with the times. She had at last broken up with Haughton. He hadn't been deceived by her pretended disapproval of their strike and act of civil disobedience, and approved of her change in work to criminal cases. Underneath that veneer of hardness, a softer George was emerging as he sensed that she really cared about the cases she was now dealing with. Certainly, that policewoman had been dealt with shamefully and deserved every penny of compensation she had wrung from the metropolitan police force. He had gathered that she and John were getting on better than ever as she had come to understand his politics in her own individual, backhanded way. Everything was getting normal in his life and all should have ended happily ever after…..until George dropped this bombshell on him. Since then, his meetings with George had been amicable enough but he had backed off from meeting this Alice. He couldn't face it.

He had mulled this problem over and over in his mind until the answer came to him. He would talk to John.

"Ah, John, I thought about coming to see you and have a chat with you. It's about something personal," Joseph greeted John**. **

'That used to be the precursor of you **wanting** to horsewhip me," John answered with a wry smile.

"That was a long time ago, John. I wanted to talk to you about George. It's a little embarrassing."

John took a closer look at the older man and realized that his opening remark was misplaced. Instead of being flip about the matter, he needed to fine-tune his listening abilities.

"Want a drink, Joseph?" he offered.

The older man gratefully accepted the large measure of whisky and sank back in an armchair and John tactfully waited for the older man to speak.

"I 'm not sure if you've heard about George's new partner. I suppose that is what they call it these days," the older man said in embarrassed tones.

"You mean Alice. I went round to see George with the thought of us finally getting back together. I found out different. I couldn't fault her on her honesty with me— or her compassion…..you know the irony of the situation is that at the precise moment that she has become more human, more admirable in every way, she takes off with another woman."

"So what did you do about it?" Joseph asked out of pure habit.

"I did what I do these days when I'm confused. Till recently, I used to go out and pick up some nameless woman. This time, I went round to see Nikki Wade and her partner Helen Stewart and talked over everything with them. They sorted my head out, at least superficially. They said that the hardest thing to deal with is that someone who you once loved has found someone else who is more suited. I have to accept that this is the right answer, as anything else feels too painful. I think this is only skin deep and only part of me accepts this."

"You know, I sense that you're very close to these two women. It goes against the entire background of your relationship with women."

John laughed at the older man's remark but made no answer. He had hit the nail on the head. His only answer to himself was that the less he analysed this friendship, the more durable it would be.

"So what do I do with George?"

"Have you met Alice?" counter questioned John, feeling immediately more at ease in dealing with someone else's problems than his own feelings.

"No, never."

"It seems to me that you will find it better to confront what you're afraid of. Take me, for instance. After George told me about this Haughton, I met him at a gathering and it cleared my feelings at once."

"How do you mean?"

"I hated him at once. I called him the former Mr. George Channing. It was the start of a beautiful enmity."

Joseph Channing chuckled at the younger man's dry wit, but his face fell as he came back to his dilemma. He was no further advanced in resolving his problem. The look in the older man's eye conveyed this to John. It occurred to him that he kept coming out with these flip remarks as a defence against his own insecurity.

"This doesn't get me anywhere. I don't want to be estranged from my own daughter. That would be a tragedy but I'm damned if I can see a way out."

John pulled himself together and finally got a slant on the whole situation."Let's put it this way. Have you ever got George to do anything that she really doesn't want to do or stopped her from doing anything she really wants to do? Be honest with me because we're both fathers and I know how lax I've been with Charlie." "Well, no. I suppose not. She was always obstinate and willful," conceded Joseph grudgingly under John's searching gaze and his frank confession. "Let's put it another way. Do you find George more human and kinder than she used to be, not to you as she has always respected you? What I mean is the way she views the world in general and treats or talks about other people.""I can't deny the truth of what you're saying," Joseph was forced to admit."Therefore, it's possible you might get to like Alice. More than ever before, I'd trust in George's judgment even if you can't understand her. Let's face it, you'll either fight her over it or come to accept George and Alice."

Joseph winced at the way the names were bracketed but as his jangled nerves came to accept the wisdom. John was right of course. He helped himself to another measure of whisky as he helped get his head round the whole situation.


	26. Chapter 26

**Scene Twenty-Six **

In the last week, Karen had taken the steps to move to humbler dwellings, and that alone had forced her to become more active and energetic. She'd said a sad goodbye to her nice luxury flat and packaged her belongings to find a home in a humbler Victorian terraced flat, which could be afforded now thatshe was down to state benefits. Her smart suits were hung up in her wardrobe and now she dressed in more functional jeans and trainers. When she had come down in the world, the financial crash wasn't as hard as she feared. The problem she now faced as each day crawled slowly and painfully by was the forthcoming trial. It had got to the point that all her energies were focused on the promise that Shirley had made on the phone to be ready for an exciting discovery. She jumped out of her skin when the knock on the door took place. As soon as she opened the stout, blue painted wooden door, she glanced anxiously at the expression on the other woman's face.

"You really have good news. I mean, come on, what is it? Do you want a cup of tea or whatever," gabbled Karen at express speed.

"This is good news, Karen. I think things are looking up but tea first. My throat's as dry as I don't know what."

Nervously, she clattered around in the cramped kitchen, which was beginning to make her feel that she had to keep her elbows in all the time. She produced a tea tray and sat it down on the coffee table

"I'm glad you've got a video player 'cos this is what it's all about," said the other woman smirking." Mind if I work it?"

"Be my guest," Karen offered, putting not only her life, her hopes but also her remote control in the other woman's hands.

She leaned back in her settee while the other woman slid the videotape into the slot and clicked it on. Instantly, the static nighttime view of an anonymous roadside came into view and the same drab image remained in front of their eyes. Karen became restless with nothing to show for the promise of the news that could change her life.

"Wait," the other woman sharply commanded.

An instant later, the familiar shape of her car rounded the corner and Shirley froze the image, mid turn.

"You look at that and check out the driver. You see that the person has long hair and the features don't look a million miles different from yours."

"She's even got my favourite blue coat, the one that went missing that night. This is weird."

This conveyed a surreal impression in Karen's mind as she could see the similarity. It was no wonder that the witnesses at the scene had picked her out. It had a confusing effect on her as if she'd been stalked by her Doppelganger.

"You just wait and see. Here's the good news coming up," answered Shirley in a gleeful tone of voice as she clicked on the pause button again.

The car whizzed past under the field of view of the camera and only the road remained in view. Suddenly, a shape scampered into view from bottom right, twisting himself round in full view before running away to the top left of the screen.

"Fenner," exclaimed Karen with a feeling of exaltation inside her.

"I thought I'd test you out, like a video identity parade. Just how sure are you that it's him?"

"Totally bloody sure. I lived with him for a while. I know him. It's even the way he bloody walks. So what do we do next?"

"There's the problem, Karen. In a court of law, it could be argued that you think it's him because you've got every motive to want it to be him. A barrister could tear this to shreds. It's not definite enough. That man could be anyone from Jim Fenner to Tony Blair."

"Didn't think the Prime Minister would be capable of murder. He was on TV once saying he's a pretty straight sort of guy," Karen found herself laughing.

"Let's keep to the point. This is okay for our point of view but we need more than this."

"Is there any way we could get this shot cleaned up enough to make it more positive and get some sort of analysis done to prove a match?"

"Have you got an old photo of him?"

"I've always found him camera shy. He didn't mind taking sort of candid shots of me when we took a foreign holiday together. If I had any photos of him, I'd have ripped them up anyway," came the gloomy response.

"It looks as if my particular skills are called for. We need bang up to date snaps and this is my meat and potatoes.

Suddenly, a charge of electricity had shot through Karen's system. She knew what she had to do. She owed it to herself.

"Shirley, I want to do this one myself. I'll take a camera and photograph him on his lunch break. He's a creature of habit, same break every time. It's this way. Ever since I was railroaded out of Larkhall, I've been sitting around, doing sod all while you, Nikki, Helen and everyone else have been running around after me. I'm drinking too much, slobbing around the flat and getting stir crazy with nothing to do. This job will psych me up nicely for the trial coming up. It will do me good and I can give positive evidence that it was me, myself, who took the photos which puts this bastard in the frame for murdering that poor man whose only 'offence' was being at the wrong place at the wrong time. You see that I simply have to do it."

Shirley looked at the other woman for a long time. A completely different woman to the one she was used to was appearing before her eyes, sharp witted and decisive. She could relate to the idea of doing this as therapy. Her experience of the women relating to the trial was that they were reliable. Slowly, she nodded agreement.

"Okay, I'll leave it up to you. You get the photos and turn them over to me. I'd better let George know."

The recent discovery had a revitalizing effect on Karen. She was awake early the next day without the alarm clock and was soon out of bed. Humming to herself, she took a leisurely shower and put on a clean pair of denim jeans, crisp shirt and a smart brown leather jacket. She thought to herself ruefully that Grayling was right about keeping fit without a car. She'd learned to bus it around London on the occasions she went out and she'd done more walking than she'd done for years. She took her place upstairs and looked down on the streets of London with satisfaction, feeling an Olympian perspective that she'd not felt for months, either feeling a totally useless member of society or else ground down by the rigours of her job. Soon, the bus took her to the destination she'd carefully worked out and skipped daintily off the bus with a smile at the driver for free.

She paced the way, she had once driven every day and walked up the narrow approach road and the forbidding vision of the grey stones came into sight. It struck her that she's seen the place so often that familiarity had bred dullness of perception, if not contempt. It was utterly fresh to her eyes. With a pang, she looked at the rows of cars parked and the place where she had parked her car was occupied by Di Barker's green saloon. It had no right to be there, she thought but realized sadly that she'd passed on. She kept out of sight from the officer at the gate, as she did not want him to either recognize her or pretend that he hadn't.

The gentle autumn breeze blew gently at her hair and the time she was spending reminded her just how not having a job had affected her lifestyle. In former times, she'd have driven up to the place like clockwork and handed in her keys. This time, she took out her camera and held it at the ready. This was her job.

She checked her watch and it was only now she realized that Fenner might not be coming out but could easily be swilling back beer in the social club. This was a crazy expedition, she thought to herself and was starting to have second thoughts as she leant against a wall while minutes past. She ought to have left this sort of thing to Shirley. A comforting thought struck her and she smiled ironically to herself. She realized that she was counting on Di Barker's obsessive, possessive nature to want to drag him out at lunchtime. Suddenly, two familiar figures appeared and Karen at once had Fenner in her sights, aimed the viewfinder at him and started clicking away even though he and Di Barker were some distance away.

"Karen," Fenner called out in pretended puzzlement.

"Never know when you're on camera, Jim. They're all over the place, even down by the canal where you dumped my car," Karen retorted, feeling all the confidence in the world as she saw a mixed expression of anger and fear spread across his face.

"What's going on?" demanded Di querulously.

"What's happened to your face?"

"I suppose those two bitches, Stewart and Wade have got you to harass me. You want to watch what you're doing."

"I'm here on my own account." Karen threw back as Fenner stalked closer to him and his facial expression was clear to see. She hadn't the faintest idea what the man was blathering about, but made a mental note to check this out with her two friends.

"That's a good one. Really shows the panic in your eyes. You never know if your past is going to catch up with you."

Fenner gave one last glare, turned on his heel and stalked back to the car while Di Barker hustled him into the car. Karen turned around, feeling an enormous sense of satisfaction with herself and she made off in the opposite direction. She was slightly puzzled by the angry grazes on the man's face and hoped that they wouldn't spoil the photo match.

"Jim, get in the car. She's gone," Di Barker commanded.

"What the hell was she doing back again?" he answered, feeling for his diazepam tablets that Dr Nicholson had prescribed him.

"I don't know. Causing trouble again," grumbled Di. She drove the pair of them away from this disturbing situation.

********

Helen and Nikki had only just got home when the phone rang. Automatically, Helen prepared herself to deal with the usual cold caller with the latest sales hype and so she answered in a very businesslike tone, indicating that she would be no pushover.

"Karen, how nice to hear from you," she exclaimed in a much warmer tone of voice.

"This may sound a peculiar question, Helen, but have you had any contact with, dare I say it, Fenner recently. I recently took a load of photos of him to do with the court case and, besides the usual unfriendly greeting, he looked as if he'd been in a fight recently and accused you two of setting me on him."

"That's easily explained, Karen. Somehow, he'd been tipped off that we were on his case so he broke into our flat late one night only he picked the one night we'd been putting up a very dear friend of us, a high court judge. He very gallantly came to our rescue, seeing as we were only dressed in nighties and Fenner easily came out worst. The grazes must have come about after John threw the bastard out onto the pavement. I suppose in his usual paranoid way, Fenner thought we'd been conspiring together."

"Thank heavens you were both unharmed," Karen said with deep feeling. The last thing she wanted was that they'd come to harm over her troubles. "What you said explains his weird behaviour today. High court judge, eh? It sounds like you're going up in the world, with the company you keep. I'd better tell Claire about all this," Karen continued, feeling good in herself that she was taking everything in her stride. Her day's activity had given her a taste of the normality that she'd once known

"Not forgetting Claire and a couple of barristers," Helen retorted teasingly while Karen smiled with warm appreciation of their friendship. Today was one of her better days, she reflected, as she cheerily carried on the conversation.


	27. Chapter 27

**Scene Twenty-Seven **

For the last week, Nikki and Helen had been wound up about what to do about the break in. Their dire need to get in touch with Ros and Jenny had raised this feeling to a crescendo over the last two days. Nothing existed outside their need to resolve this nagging question. On Thursday, they had talked to Trisha to check out the best way of contacting them and found out that they were Friday night regulars. Beneath the strained urgency of the occasion, both women couldn't help but sense the irony of them seeking out two policewomen, when, up till then, the police force was an organization that they would sooner not come across. It didn't cross their minds that Sally Anne was an ex-policewoman as she had grown a new identity. They thought of her as a female friend, not of the uniform she'd once worn.

The week's work had crawled by until finally on Friday evening, they received a couple of phone calls that were good omens, giving their spirits a much needed lift. Firstly, Karen had told them of Fenner's reaction to being photographed. However much Fenner's intangible presence had haunted them, it demonstrated that he must be doubly fearful and paranoid of them in return. Next, an apologetic Shirley Cheetham had explained how Kris Yates, provoked by Fenner, had blabbed off about them. It set Nikki's mind at ease as she had worried how the rock solid Yvonne had somehow let word slip to Fenner about them. It wasn't her style. As her old mate came into her mind, she noticed that Shirley talked the same way as Yvonne. She was relaxed about the one at the heart of the Atkins criminal empire and the other, the slightly disreputable agent of law and order.

They had a quick takeaway meal as they were on fire to get their glad rags on, get the show on the road and head off down to 'Chix.' The big difference was that this evening out wasn't one of pure pleasure and enjoyment. Their peace of mind was at stake depending on what they found out. Both women went through the automatic motions of picking out their outfit for the night, showering and putting on their makeup but each mind was racing away as the moment of resolution came so close. They both conjured up a tightly defined, detailed description of the incident, of every word that was exchanged that evening and tried to imagine what the invisible policeman might say. They got to the point that their minds went round and round in circles and then they gave up. Finally, they were out of the house in record time and Helen screeched round the corners to land them at 'Chix' when the club was half deserted. As they emerged into the arena of flashing lights and soft music, they felt confused, disorientated. Sally Anne immediately came to greet them, shortly followed by Trisha.

"It's lovely to see you both again," Sally, offered hugging each woman affectionately, "we'd thought you'd given up going out for the pleasures of Friday night television or a quiet life."

"Hi babes," was Trisha's shorter grinning greeting.

"Friday is the night that TV programmers think the audience have had a temporary lobotomy," Nikki said caustically before switching. "As for a quiet night, I'm beginning to think that it's not that we're incapable of it. It's just that sometimes we feel pursued."

"You're being very enigmatic, you two," Trisha queried with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, it's nothing much. Just that bastard Fenner broke in at two o' clock in the morning. There we were, in our nighties and the first we knew was the light switched on and him mouthing off to scare the shit out of us," Helen said tersely.

"Jesus Christ! That's terrible," Sally, exclaimed all sympathy.

"We'd put up John for that one night, you know John Deed, the judge. He was going through some emotional problems and he wanted us to talk him through them and put him up for the night. Anyway the disturbance woke him up and he did his 'knight in shining armour' routine and slung him out on the street."

"That's not like you, Nik, a card-carrying feminist to advocate male testosterone in action," queried Trisha, trying to get his had round the situation.

"He stuck his neck out for us when he has his position to think of and put me right on that score," Helen answered with scrupulous honesty." I tell you he's a really good friend in need. I'd certainly recommend as a bodyguard, a male judge like him who can land a good left hook."

There was a chorus of gentle appreciative laughter at Helen's retort. Immediately, the two women had a captive audience as they elaborated on their story. Trisha looked quizzically at them as an interesting perspective shaped itself of her friend. It was an irresistible paradox that begged to be voiced yet everything Nikki said made perfect sense to her.

"You don't mind me reminding you how sarcastic you once were about the guy I hired to fix the shower unit, Nik. You said I should have hired a woman. You must have changed your views over time."

"I can relate to that one, Trisha. What's been really strange about the last few years is that while I am and always have been absolutely one hundred per cent lesbian, Helen and I have come across some really decent guys who make good friends," came the amused yet thoughtful reply. Trisha was absolutely right, of course.

"More you than me, Nikki," Helen teased," There's your boss Paul Williams, who's your best buddy and there's Tony."

"Come off it, Helen," Nikki laughed playfully as she pushed at her lover's shoulder. "Paul was one of your drinking buddies at that conference or so he tells me."

The light-hearted banter had had that magical effect of loosening up the two women, making them less one track minded as they sipped their drinks. Nevertheless, while the four women chatted away, Nikki spotted Ros and Jenny out of the corner of her eye. They made life simpler for them in smiling at them and coming straight over. They'd appreciated the friendliness of their reception that first night. Now was their chance, so Nikki's overheated nervous system told her, to pop the question while she was psyched up enough to ask.

"I hate to bother you, Ros but I must pick your brains about something that's happened to us.

"Bloody hell, I can't believe it. I thought coming out as a copper in a lesbian club would cause everyone to run for their lives, land us up running a free consulting agency or attract the girls who are into uniforms," Ros retorted loudly.

"We're ever so sorry to bother you. This is definitely a 'one off' situation as Nikki and I don't make a habit of falling foul of the law," Helen added with her best winning smile.

"Okay kid. I can take flattery as well as the next woman. You tell us the story but make it quick, Jenny and I have been on long shifts this week and we want to relax."

"Okay, Ros. This is as simple as I can make it. What are my chances of pressing charges against a guy who broke into our flat in the small hours of the morning, threatened us while we were in bed only for a guy who was stopping over to step in and after a fight, threw him out of our flat?" Helen asked with clicking precision.

"Were there any injuries or damage done?"

"Only to the burglar's face when he was thrown down onto the steps outside."

"Hmmn," reflected Ros. "The charge wouldn't be top of the league tables, the way policing is done these days, especially not with the CPS. The most that you might get out of it that one of us might go round, tell him not to be a naughty boy and caution him. I'd do it with pleasure and scare the shit out of him but are you likely to get payback? It depends on how much of a dangerous bastard he is," replied Ros in reflective tones. " I'm telling you like it is and not giving you a load of bull. Best you know the truth."

The two women's heart sank as this basically kind-hearted woman told it like it was. They knew that she meant well by telling them the truth.

"You don't need to worry about this any more," broke in George's distinctive assured tone of voice." You can leave this problem to me and enjoy yourselves for the rest of the evening. I don't mean any disrespect but this is complicated. There are wheels within wheels if you see what I mean."

"If you're taking a problem off our hands, that's fine by me. Just what do you do for a living if you don't mind me asking?" Ros asked in curious and respectful tones. She hadn't come across a woman who was so classy and was such a stunner. Her girlfriend was suitably tall, dark and statuesque. Both policewomen looked at them in open admiration.

"I'm a barrister and I know very well how your profession has the habit of following you into your leisure time."

"I've given evidence in court before but I haven't seen a barrister as good looking as you. Anyway, I'm sure you'll sort out this problem. We're heading off to the bar."

George wasted no time in cutting to the chase and Nikki and Helen were all attention.

"Alice and I arehere to enjoy ourselves too, so I'll keep this brief. I've talked to Claire and she's heard the very latest from Karen. If it's all right with you, I'd sooner use this break-in to stitch up Fenner for good and all. He's very conveniently tied in his break in on your house with your activity in defending Karen's good name in a hit and run murder. The witness to this is none other than Karen who'll be taking the stand anyway. What's the point, after all, of having Al Capone jailed for tax evasion when I can have him sent down for multiple murder?"

George's clear razor sharp exposition was readily absorbed by the other two women's minds and it put the whole confusing disarranged sequence of events into perfect order. There was no need to brave the police bureaucracy as their place in the grand scheme of things was already arranged. Deep feelings of joy ran through their emotional cores just as their intellects were engaged. This had solved all their problems at a stroke and the way forward was clear. Impulsively, Helen flung her arms round George and hugged her followed by Nikki. In solving this problem, this talented barrister had taken such a weight off their shoulders

"I can see that both of you have been under pressure, not only your problems but in looking out for Karen as well," George said softly and both women knew that they were right. "You both let your hair down... I'm ordering you to. This is the weekend after all."

Suddenly, the two women became aware of the sinewy sounds of music all around them, filtering through their senses. Flickering lights played on the contours of the friendly faces that surrounded them. They both breathed in the air of freedom, that at least for the night, the evening was theirs. They'd come here on business and now they could enjoy themselves.

"Drinks, ladies? These are on the house or so Trisha told us," a friendly voice called from behind them. Helen spun round as Jenny carried a trayful of drinks, still orange including double vodka and lemonade for them.

"You're total stars," Helen said gushingly. "That's exactly what I want right now."

"Me too," agreed Nikki. "We've had a hell of a week. I don't drink that much but I feel an exception coming on. By the way, is that straight orange you're drinking?"

"We came straight off a late shift, got changed and came out in the police car. We have to set an example if you see what I mean. We've got used to it." Ros said.

They all sat and had a nice amiable chat, before they'd finished their drinks and went out on the dance floor. The vodka went straight to Nikki and Helen's heads and the two women felt as if they were floating and the music seemed to sweep over them in waves. Both of them were more physically affectionate with each other than normal and this was a super-Friday night out. They wrapped their arms round each other while the slower songs were playing. This was heaven. They felt that they were enveloped in a soft cocoon of snatches of musical phrases, of sung words, of the consciousness that they were among like-minded women and especially dear friends of theirs. Everything was safe and secure in their world.

From the sidelines, Trisha and Sally-Anne looked on fondly at the nighttime pleasures. Sally-Anne had slotted neatly into the space that Trisha had created for her and her biological clock had shifted round to her more nocturnal hours of work, which felt perfectly natural to her. The club, which was once a hitherto unknown playground of pleasures, was now her place of work and the admission charges and the drinks sales was her income, jointly with Trisha. However, it didn't get in the way of enjoying herself, as she became part of the circle of friends with Trisha.

"Do you have any regrets that Nikki is now with Helen?" Sally-Anne suddenly asked.

The question left Trisha felt quite calm and collected as she was certain in her own mind and there wasn't a trace of anxiety in the dark haired woman's voice. The question was a perfectly natural one of simple curiosity.

"Not a chance, babes. I knew what I was doing when I deliberately pushed Nikki in Helen's direction. I knew that we hadn't a hope in hell of picking up the threads where we'd left off when Nikki was imprisoned. When I met you, you became the love of my life. I have no unconscious feelings of jealousy towards Helen. They're both best friends and that's a fact. Everything has turned out for the best, babes."

As the blond haired woman looked into her lover's eyes, Sally leaned forwards and held Trisha in her arms and gave her a slow and lingering kiss. At moments like these, other women's nighttime pleasures were quite capable of being their own.

"Want to dance, Trisha?"

"It's our club so why not, babes?" came the reply, in Trisha's best sultry tones. She couldn't think of fancying anything more than the idea of dancing with her lover.

The time came when the party atmosphere started to wind down as everyone was tired out or feeling the worse for wear for drink. Nikki and Helen both suddenly realized that they were having extreme difficulty in getting their legs to hold them up and they slumped sideways onto two convenient chairs.

"Oh my God, we drove here in our car," Nikki suddenly exclaimed." We're well over the limit and no way are we safe to drive."

"I've got the answer for you, girls," called a loud voice somewhere above and to the side of them.

Nikki screwed up her eyes to try and concentrate on who the mystery voice was. She could see a pair of sharply cut trousers and that was all. Helen was more successful in getting her eyes to concentrate of the face wavering in front of her.

"Of course, you're Ros, aren't you?" she said vaguely pointing a finger in their approximate direction.

"We've got the answer to your problems, girls. You've both had a skinful so I'll drive you back in my car and drop you off at your flat while Jenny drives your car."

Both women beamed at their saviours in a friendly fashion. They couldn't think what else to say. At one time, Nikki would never have believed that guardian angels could also wear police uniforms having acquired a jaundiced view of uniforms in general.

They said their emotional farewells to George and Alice and Sally-Anne and Trisha even though it was more than likely that they would see each other soon enough. They staggered out of the club and propped each other up as they zigzagged their way. They concentrated hard in not letting Ros out of their sight. They were both secretly wondering how in hell they could give coherent directions back to their flat. As soon as they said their address, both policewomen nodded their heads. From years of driving round the back streets of London, they had an encyclopedic sense of the complicated grid map that represented London by car. Helen fumbled round in her handbag for her car keys and finally found them, relieved in not holding Ros and Jenny up.

It showed how times had changed, that Nikki calmly viewed the white police car with aggressive orange and red stripes down the side and the blue light bolted to the top. They slid easily through the already opened back door into the wide seat. In her peaceful haze, Nikki was hardly conscious that the last time she sat in the back of a police car, she was handcuffed to a policeman as she and Trisha sat bolt upright, still spattered with DC Gossard's blood. They were on their way to Larkhall Police Station, nerves wound tight as they still couldn't believe the calamity that had taken place. In place of the aggressive hostility that radiated in waves at them from the police driver, Ros smiled indulgently through her rear view mirror at the two spread-eagled figures in the back of her car. This wasn't some mobile prison taking them somewhere against their will but a friendly lift to get them back home while their car followed on behind them, driven by an equally friendly soul. They felt as safe as houses, even if the back of the police car rotated gently round them.

"Good night ladies, sleep tight," called out Ros from the police car as Helen fumbled for their house keys.

"Thanks a million, you guys," called out Nikki, waving uncertainly at them, polite and grateful to the last of her available faculties.

They stumbled through the front door, leaning against the wall and wondering if they could make it to their bed. It had been on hell of a week and now they were back home. Only a few feet further to go, they thought while the hallway seemed to lean in on them at perilous angles. They gripped each other tightly round the waist and tried to focus their way around.

"Think we can make it to bed?" questioned Nikki uncertainly.

"I'll hold you up, darling. We'll get there. One last push and we'll be there," Helen answered, trying to rally herself and then she pulled at the other woman and they lunged their way through the final distance that separated themselves from their beds.

This symbolized everything that had been between them, thought Nikki fondly as she dropped her handbag and held on tight. They hurtled through the bedroom door together and fell full length. The last thing they remembered was the tilted view upwards of the overhead lights as it swayed overhead at them but the most important sensation was the soft texture of their duvet and the feel of their arms round each other. They were safe.


	28. Chapter 28

**Scene Twenty-Eight **

A/N Lyrics 'Helen Wheels' - Paul McCartney

Inner feelings of emptiness flowed through George in those moments of half wakefulness, half dream state, when she wasn't sure who or where she was. It upset her that somehow she would be forced to don that hateful mask again, to pretend to herself that she really liked sharing the company of those who left her cold inside. Most of all she felt that the man she was stuck with was a million miles away from her. He was sharing their double bed but was the opposite of everything she really wanted. Why was she stuck in this situation? How did she get there? The worst of it all was that she had successfully persuaded those closest to her that the mask was her when all along, she was living a lie. Certainly, she said and did nothing to persuade them otherwise. She had worked so hard in persuading all and sundry that she loved the material things of life above all else. This was the one moment of honesty in her daily life and from that point in the day onwards, she knew she would do her best to suppress that voice of dissent. It was only in that state of semi wakefulness that all her defences were down.

It was only when her eyes opened wide that the blond-haired woman realized that this was a Saturday morning and she saw her lover sleeping next to her. Waves of relief flowed through her, as she knew that she had only lived the residual nightmare of her past. In broad daylight, she knew that she had much to smile about. The best thing about it was waking up and being reminded how thankful that her life had changed. She looked at Alice's soft features, her long flowing hair and the way her body curved against her. Everything was all right in her world and there was nothing to worry about.

******

The last two months had seen George and Alice's relationship smoothly progress so that there were moments when, she wondered how she could have managed not to live this way. Everything before that magic turning point in her life had started to fade into the background as her life settled down to a comforting pattern where everything felt so natural.

The two women took their work home with them and were quite capable of silently working on their own with their files yet maintaining that companionable awareness of each other's presence. George was bent over her working table, the papers for the Karen Betts trial spread out in front of her. She was immediately aware of Alice's light footfall behind her. As her fingers touched the back of her neck and gently stroked it, she sighed deeply and leaned back in satisfaction. Those fingers were gradually easing the tenseness out of her neck muscles from the time spent in close concentration on the case in hand. She had worked through to a comfortable stopping point and was quite willing to give way to temptation. Alice had that delightful knack of timing the right moment in everything that related in their lives. That was one quality that made her special.

"How did you know that I really wanted your delightful brand of distraction?" George said, her tone of voice arching the syllables that started to arouse Alice's own sense of pleasures.

"I just know, darling," came Alice's soft reply as her fingers slipped forward and slowly yet deftly started to unbutton George's shirt.

The blond-haired woman sighed blissfully in pleasure, her skin tingling all over and she reached behind her to caress her lover. It seemed an eternity for the last button to be undone and her bra to be unclipped until finally, at last, the taller women touched George's hard nipples and her mind and body were thoroughly aroused. As George turned round and started removing her clothing, Alice dreamily reflected on the endearing way that George reveled unashamedly in the pleasure in her own sexuality and in Alice's.

It was no surprise that as the front room had a white fluffy rug conveniently in front of the hearth; both women knew that it was simply not possible to wait until they had reached their bed. After all, this was the way they had started on their very first night together.

******

It was only now that Helen and Nikki realized how the intensity of the past month's events had worn them down as they'd gradually committed themselves to shouldering some of the weight of Karen's misfortunes and ended up confronting their worst enemy, one whom they had thought they had walked away from. The Saturday morning after they had staggered in from 'Chix', they had lain, without moving with their crumpled duvet around them. They felt as if every bone in their body was weary and they needed to recuperate and withdraw from the world so they didn't stir till late. Doing as little as possible felt the right thing to do that weekend, and leaving the normal housework wasn't an irretrievable sin. They made an unspoken common resolution to deny that Fenner could haunt their existence. Otherwise they would be conjuring up his spirit. They knew only too well that his reality was quite bad enough. They preserved every nuance of Karen's story of how paranoid Fenner was of them and got on with their lives.

They stumbled back to work on the Monday and day after day went past. September had given way to the increasing chills and shortening days of October. The court case was now being left to trundle its way until the court case was listed. They had learned to grab a sense of temporary peace and value it for what it was.

******

One day, when they were out in their car on a Saturday morning and an impulse took hold of Nikki, to drive them down to her parent's house.

"Don't your parents want notice of you coming down?" asked Helen anxiously.

"Relax, Helen," urged Nikki in confident tones." Things are cool between us these days. They'll either be out, which is unlikely or else they'll be around. They're creatures of habit, trust me."

Helen gave up disputing the point. She was eager to get out for the day and driving out of London to Nikki's parents comfortable house, a little distance out to Portsmouth seemed a good idea. They'd been to Nikki's parents once before and everything had worked out surprisingly smoothly.

Nikki settled behind the wheel of the Peugeot and sang along with the car radio while the wind blew through the open driver's window. As the sharp, fun rock and roll road song played through the car, Nikki joined in the chorus, which expressed her sense of heading off down the road with the woman she most loved alongside her. She grinned at the smaller woman as she hit the chorus line of that 'on the road' song and she smiled happily back in contentment.

"Said farewell to my last hotel, it was never much kind of abode  
Glasgow town never brought me down when I was heading out on the road  
Carlisle city never looked so pretty and the Kendal freeway's fast  
Slow down driver, want to stay alive, I want to make this journey last.

Helen, hell on wheels, ain't nobody else gonna know the way she feels  
Helen, hell on wheels, and they never gonna take her away."

She looked the picture of purposeful activity, Helen reflected, while their car ate up the miles. In no time at all, their car pulled off the dual carriageway, wended round the countryside and finally swung confidently onto the gravel drive that fronted the house. Built at the end of the First World War, it had aspirations to minor mansion status in its backward looking mixture of imitations of both Gothic and Tudor architecture. Somehow, both women overlooked the gleaming BMW parked in the drive and Nikki led the way, knocking confidently on the front door.

The door opened and, to Nikki's total shock and horror, her brother's face greeted her. His face promptly turned stony with anger and turned round to talk to their parents.

'It's Nicola. She's come with her female friend."

Behind Nikki, Helen's expressive face couldn't help but slide into a smirk and her eyes glinted at the impossibly stilted, repressed description of her. She realized just how profound was her immersion in her lifestyle change to find these words ludicrous, as they were phrased.

"Ask them to come in."

As the two women walked on the highly polished parquet flooring and looked around them, Nikki's father was obviously ill at east. He coughed a couple of times before finally

"As I've told John before, you both have the same rights to come over here but this visit isn't well timed."

"No visit by Nicola is ever well timed, father. She's always caused trouble for the family. My children are growing up. It's getting harder to keep her existence a secret from them. Children do ask awkward questions, you know."

"It takes two to have a quarrel, John. Besides, what's wrong with having an inquisitive mind?" his sister asked in such an innocently reasonable tone of voice.

"Do you have to ask such an insane question?" John shouted, red in the face as Nikki's droll tones set him off in a bad temper." Thanks to your perverse desire to break the rules, you got thrown out of the expensive boarding school that our parents spent so much on. You're the unmentionable one around this house, Nicola. Your face and name were plastered all over the tabloids for murdering that policeman and dragging our name through the mud. I even had thoughts once of changing my name by deed poll to escape the shame you brought on our family."

Nikki's eyes opened wide in shock and anger as echoes of past family rows were conjured up to reverberate throughout her nervous system. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"That's enough of all this, children," Nikki's father stepped in with as much military command as he could summon up, glaring at his son. Even at a moment like this, Nikki couldn't help but smile at the way her father took himself back down the years but she realistically perceived that this backdated description of her and John would serve his purpose as well as any other.

"Don't rise to it, Nikki. That's giving his very existence far too much validation." Helen cut in quietly yet definitely. "You can rise above it all."

The sharp eyed woman saw a fleeting look of gratitude shine in Nikki's father's eyes for hitting the precise note. He cleared his throat and his presence commanded centre stage**.**

"Nikki, I think you made a bit of a mistake in not phoning us first to say you were going to call. John's visit was prearranged. You have every right to be here but so has John, no more, no less. The problem is that the two of you can't be under the same roof at the same time. The obvious course of action is perfectly clear if you care to work it out. If you choose correctly, then you have our blessing."

Nikki's father stood solidly, looking his daughter in the eye. In turn, thoughts ran rapidly through his daughter's mind. Blind anger flamed up in her that, once again, she was being driven out of the home where she had been excluded for so many years and tension ran through her clenched fists. It wasn't fair, she thought. Then she looked at the mild expression on her father's face and her mother's worried expression. It dawned on her that they weren't shouting at her but a silent appeal was being made to her sense of responsibility. It was her choice and she was invited to consider the whole picture. She exhaled the air that had been sucked up into her lungs and the tension was breathed out into the atmosphere. Blindly, she fumbled for a cigarette and lit up, to the astonishment of not a sign of protest except from her self-righteous prig of a brother who glared at her. All the anger drained out of her. Helen was right.

"Okay, dad. I hear what you're saying. I think the right thing to do is for Helen and I to come back another day. We really want to have a pleasant family day with you but that's not possible as things stand," Nikki replied in a controlled, level tone of voice, looking her father in the eye and avoiding her brother.

Instantly feelings of relief brightened up the room except for an isolated pocket of anger creating storm clouds in the corner. Helen squeezed Nikki's hand at her well-chosen words in this difficult decision. She knew that Nikki had been so sorely tempted not to surrender her physical position whereas, in acting wisely, she had won the battle. Nikki's father stepped forward and shook her hand warmly and firmly and her mother kissed her on the cheek.

"Love you mum," Nikki said. She had come to see, through Helen's engagement with her, that her mother had a point of view on the world aside from her father's.

The farewell greetings to Helen were similarly warm and affectionate while Nikki's brother fumed on the sidelines. He was outraged at how his parents took so well to these women and had quietly abandoned the staunch conservative values that they themselves had instilled in him. He had cynically expected his sister to kick up an almighty argument and be cast as the villain of the peace. He had always found her stroppy and difficult to deal with. This deft diplomatic touch was unsettlingly novel and it disarmed him without him able to do a thing about it.


	29. Chapter 29

**Scene Twenty-Nine **

Muttering under his breath, John Wade finally edged his immaculately maintained BMW into the only very tight space outside HMP Larkhall. The visitor's parking place was whatever was left after the staff had parked their cars. He got out of his car, grasping hold of his shiny black briefcase, wondering about the variety of female lowlifes that he might encounter, the Mr. Plods that he would be reliant on and especially this Fenner character. He faced a ridiculously long walk past the clapped out cars, which were lined up outside this crumbling Victorian ruin. His first experience at the gate was not encouraging, especially being used to lording his professional authority over a grateful deferential client.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I must ask you to empty your briefcase, for security reasons."

"I beg your pardon?" he answered in haughty, astonished tones, indicating that the last thing he intended was begging for anything, quite the reverse. "Do you know just who I am? In my time, I've represented wealthy industrialists and Her Majesty's Government."

"I apologise but rules is rules and I've got the governor to account to if I don't follow them. It's more than my job's worth not to."

"Do you think I'd let some jumped up little traffic warden type tell me what to do?"

"Have it your own way," Ken finally replied, starting to lose his patience." John Wade, eh? We once had a prisoner here called Nikki Wade. No relation, I suppose?"

"Of course not," lied the man, flushing in anger and embarrassment while Ken looked at the guy with shrewder eyes than he was given credit for." Look here, just to keep the peace, here's my briefcase," John Wade said, ungraciously thrusting the case into the man's hands.

Ken studiously searched the briefcase, not hurrying the task too much and sensing the bottled up irritation. He phoned up and was thankful that Selena Geeson, one of the keen young prison officers, was to take him off his hands. This pompous idiot was now someone else's problem.

He couldn't help wincing at the oppressive sense of dinginess about the place and having to be let through the sequences of barred gates. Surely, the prisoners were supposed to be locked up, not visitors. He glanced at the women who approached him and flinched at the suggestive looks that the two skinny blond-haired scrubbers, dressed in short skirts and skimpy tops. Worst of all, an older woman, dressed in leather trousers and jacket and hawk like face stared threateningly at him.

"So who's this new talent on the block, eh?"

The man was staggered that the prison officer just smiled at this cheeky woman and didn't slap down this impertinent woman.

"As it happens, I'm a solicitor and I'll thank you to treat me with respect," he said stiffly.

"Respect, eh?" she said, holding up her hands in an expression of peacemaking. "I don't do respect unless it's earned. If I come across a straight down the line guy, well that's different," said this woman with a playful smile, which he found unsettling. He wasn't used to coming across forceful women like this.

"Yeah, you're in the second oldest profession in the world. Rip people off something rotten, don't you," said the more forceful of the two other women.

"Just find this Jim Fenner for me. I'm an extremely busy man," he said stiffly.

"Come on, Yvonne and Julies, let this visitor pass," Selena said in crisp tones though inwardly, she was disgusted that this solicitor was helping out this slimeball. She could sense the women's playfulness could turn abruptly to anger given half a chance, and she wanted to get him out of the way and fast.

"I shouldn't be subjected to this sexual innuendo. I read in the Daily Mail that prisons are slapdash and this confirms my opinion."

"You have to learn where to draw the line. I'll call your client on my mobile phone and find you an interview room."

Selena drew out her brick sized mobile phone, intoned her message and the various call signs and led the way to a green painted door. She declined to answer the criticism as it was obvious that this man didn't have a clue about real life, however he might pride himself on being Superlawyer. The smart, attractive woman opened up the room to this unbelievably poky hole, with nothing but a hardwood chair that looked totally uncomfortable and a shabby wooden desk. These were totally primitive conditions and left him barely enough space to spread out his papers. He made a mental note to consider lodging a formal complaint as to his general treatment.

He was drumming his fingers on the tabletop, bored out of his skull when his client finally entered the room and they exchanged the usual pleasantries. This Jim Fenner had a reassuringly firm handshake, and was averagely presentable with a suggestion of a military bearing in his manner. He spoke with just the right note of deference to his status as a solicitor. John Wade was becoming reassured by this man's modest demeanour and appearance of solid reliability. It came back to him how many years ago, his father had given him a guided tour of the ship that he had commanded and the memories had now resurfaced. In recognizing the same kind of military environment, it struck him that even if Jim Fenner wasn't quite officer material he would go down very well in the seaman's mess. He was very sure of the people he met in his daily life and could sum them up at a glance, even if he had never been told anything about them.

"Mind if I smoke? It's an occupational habit. "

"Go ahead," the other man said. Necessity is the mother of invention, he thought sourly to himself. "I assume you know why I wanted to see you."

"Someone said something about Karen Betts going up on trial for knocking down that unfortunate pedestrian but I don't see where I fit in."

"In the statement Karen Betts made to the police statement, she claimed that right before she left Larkhall she had a pretty big row with you over some file she'd got on your malpractice and she was going to expose you."

"Ah yes, I see what you're driving at. You want evidence of her state of mind. Well, I could help out," Fenner answered, a look of enlightenment in his eye.

"Were you in any way close to her?"

"What do you mean close?" Fenner said through narrowed eyes.

"I would have thought it was obvious," the other man said, a touch of irritation in his voice." Do you mean friendship or were you in a relationship with her?"

"Yeah, we were close once," Fenner said in a lowered, apparently philosophical tone of voice. "We lived together for awhile and planned on getting married, but it didn't work out. Working at this place, doing long hours, funny shifts doesn't do relationships a lot of good."

"Did she have any resentment towards you?"

This man reflected awhile, and John Wade gave him credit for not speaking straightaway. He knew from his own experience that exposing your feelings to a stranger was somehow indecent.

"It's difficult to say. There's bound to be unpleasantness. It's only human nature. Working together twenty four seven doesn't help."

John prided himself in gradually wearing down the man's obvious shyness and reticence so that, after a while, he started talking freely. It was his magic touch, he thought to himself, and he felt he had got to the bottom of the case. This woman had trumped up some sort of case against him, they had a falling out and she stormed off in a rage. He could picture it all so vividly. It was one of those thousand to one coincidences that he'd been captured on CCTV film just when that car had pulled in and had been dumped.

"You know that the finger of suspicion might be pointed at you. You know that the best form of defence is attack," John Wade warned him.

"You get that sort of thing all the time. One of the cons, sorry I mean, inmates, got deranged and got the mad idea that I'd raped her. I go into her cell one night and she tricks me into getting closer than I like with women prisoners, gets out a broken bottle and stabs me in the stomach. I was lucky in having a good doctor on the premises or else I would have been a goner."

"Good Lord, I wonder you came back to work here after that experience." John Wade exclaimed in horrified tones. This story came far too close to home and his sympathies went out to this man. He was one of those unsung heroes you didn't get to hear of that toiled in the background after the prisoner had been sent down in the full glare of publicity. He obviously didn't want to parade his heroism for all to see but the quiet throwaway manner that he told his story was very revealing.

"I learned to cope and come through the other side. You learn to get through this sort of thing when you've been in the service as long as I have."

"I must say, I take my hat off to you."

The man hesitated as if he had a lot on his mind and had to think about just how to phrase it.

"…………About this court case, I'll have to think this over, you understand."

"I wouldn't want to push you. The choice is yours but my opinion is that you'll make a credible witness. By beating off the attack that would undoubtedly be made in your absence, it will make our case stick," John Wade replied in confident tones.

"Have you been in court before, Jim?" he asked after a reflective pause.

"I've seen the inside of a courtroom before a number of times and occasionally given evidence. I know the drill."

"That's good as at least you'd be prepared if you do agree to be a witness. In that case, I'd run over the case with you in more detail."

They shook hands on the semi deal and just when they left the cell, a thought crossed Fenner's mind.

"I'm sorry but I didn't quite catch your name earlier on."

"My name's John Wade," the other man said while Yvonne and the Julies glared at him.

The response appeared to startle the other man. It was a funny coincidence. No, it couldn't be possible, he thought, as he shook his head.

He went to escort the man to the gates himself to turn everything over in his mind. He knew that while he'd smooth talked his way through this interview, court would be tougher. Even as he had spoken to the brief, he was inclining to go for it but needed the evening to make the final decision. He might blag his way through this one, the same way he had done in every tight corner he had found himself in. He also knew that his guarantee of safety was to make sure that if anyone went down, it wouldn't be him but Betts. His cold sense of looking after number one dictated this.

********

Deep in his lair, Grayling sat alone in his office, holding his head in his hands as a headache clamped his head in a vice. He had been desperate to get rid of that thorn in his side, Karen Betts who perpetually disagreed with and blocked his favourite ideas. He had half suspected that she had worked discreetly behind the scenes when that ghastly sit in started off in the middle of his planned PR triumph in launching Lynford Securities which had ended up sinking his career plan. He had been so determined, to be rid of her, and as part of the deal, he was stuck with the useless, ineffective and spiteful Di Barker. The only alternative had been Jim Fenner and his vision of the man in the job worked out very differently in practice as he found out how conniving the man was.

He'd been spooked by the visit by the very dangerously astute Ms Wade who's parried his best ploys and her sure knowledge of the wing made him feel uncomfortably naked. His nerves had been on edge wondering what was going to drop through the post not knowing from what direction the blow might fall. The final straw was when his sensitive antenna told him that a solicitor had come to interview Jim Fenner. Logic told him that, if it was about the forthcoming Karen Betts trial, was there a possibility that he had something to do with the trial? He just hoped that the wretched file of Karen Betts had been put through the shredder as it was supposed to be. Surely the simplest action like this must have been carried out properly? The worst of it was that he wasn't totally sure if he was backing the right horse. This was a concern that had dominated his entire life.

********

When Fenner finally got home that night, he made an excuse to go to the loo while he let the very cloying Di Barker cook a traditional roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for them both. She never knew when to shut up grumbling about everything, but he didn't want her trying to get inside his head either. He let no one do that to him, ever. Only on his own did he feel secure.

His thought had been churning away all afternoon beneath the lid of outward cold control and now, when he was on his own, they poured out in a stream of internal consciousness. What wound him up was that, up till a month ago, everything had been going smoothly in his life. He had finally packed off Betts safely on her way to the inside of a women's nick, or so the police who had come to drag her off the wing had led him to expect. That had given him total control over the wing, as Di Barker was just a figurehead boss, not a real one. Even Atkins had kept her head down and Hedges had been safely under his thumb. It was Wade's 'inspection' that started the rot in nosing around things that didn't concern her and stirring everyone up. It kicked off a run of disturbing events, the most recent being beaten up by that old man who was kipping at Stewart and Wade's flat. He'd given the lads at work the old flannel about falling down a flight of stairs but he wasn't sure if they believed him. Finally Betts's mad escapade of taking snapshots of him got him really worked up. She should have drowned herself in her favourite bottle of whisky but instead was acting far too cocky for his liking.

Suddenly, all his fears and paranoiacs burst to the surface in the visual form of his enemies, Wade, Stewart and Betts. All too easily, he could picture them all laughing at him and plotting to bring him down. He suddenly fumbled in his inside jacket pocket, brought out the pill bottle, flipped open the top and greedily took a couple of the tranquillizers. He knew full well that he was in danger of running out of his prescription but he knew that he could prevail on Malcolm Nicholson to prescribe him a 'top up' in emergency, the 'all pals together' routine. He needed them, there and then, to calm him down with the trial coming up. They worked better than beer. He started thinking ahead to the trial and tried to comfort himself with the thought that he'd been in court before, so he knew the drill, but this time it was personal and that worried him.

What scared him was that all the threats against him came from outside the comfort zone of Larkhall Prison, outside his normal turf. The irony of it was that he'd got rid of Stewart first and then Betts, while Wade slipped out of his grasp. They had now returned to dog his steps in the public arena where he didn't pull the strings. He felt naked, alone. It was for this reason that he held back from his temptation to dish the dirt to the tabloids about Stewart and Wade. Who knows what might kick off if he got into that game? Besides, he also had known for a long time that he had to look clean and above board with the trial in the offing. He knew very well that Area Management would trace the story straight back to him and they wouldn't thank him for blowing the gaff on them. While he'd given that toffee nosed solicitor the old flannel to perfection, it sharpened his sense that he had to be bloody careful. While he secretly despised the man, he was the meal ticket to Betts being sent down and him being finally secure.

He had got to tough it out, to play things cagey and above all, trust no one except himself.


	30. Chapter 30

**Scene Thirty**The offices of the LCD started to darken with the growing autumnal weather, but the atmosphere of this meeting was overshadowed more by the latest development on the Regina versus Karen Betts case than anything else. Late evidence was submitted, which just scraped through the deadline and their contents threw all their calculations askew. As ragged clouds gathered outside, ready to dash their contents against the high glass windows, the two men compared notes. "Is this history repeating itself? We're getting stuck in a repeating nightmare of a surefire case unravelling itself as it comes to trial," Sir Ian observed gloomily half to himself while Lawrence James sensibly remained in the background. "The worst of it all is that once again it's that wretched Larkhall prison at the bottom of it all.""So what's our game plan? What's our interest in the trial?"

Sir Ian shook his head wearily. For a long time, he had practiced the art of threading his way through the myriad of fast changing events to align his perspective with the greater good. The nation state must be kept secure in such turbulent, uncertain times. Vulgar populist ideas that Deed pursued had to be sidelined, suppressed and even publicly attacked with the help of his reliable friends in the press. The question was so ingrained in his mind, 'to whose interest?' that he never had to consciously bring it the light of day. Today, he must be having a bad day, as for the life of him, he was struggling to work out whether or not is was best for this Karen Betts to be the sacrificial lamb or this Jim Fenner lurking in the background. It lay between one ex wing governor who's resigned and one currently serving principal officer. He worked on the principle that a 'one off occurrence could be explained away as an individual failing— a 'two off event', less so. Even if this woman were acquitted, the right wing section of the public would think that she'd done something wrong or she wouldn't have been charged, and that the weak-minded judges had once again, let down the brave boys in the police force. The Hampstead intellectuals would fire off letters to the Guardian in protest at whatever. On balance, the interests lay in sticking to the original plan. . The worst scenario was if the trial pointed to any skeletons in the cupboard that would show the prison system as a whole in a bad light.

"We go for damage limitation. An anonymous pedestrian had been killed which isn't earth shaking in itself, only that a prison officer was to blame who had resigned anyway before this blew up. The more this is reported as some individual drunken soap opera, the more it lets us off the hook."

Unknown to them, they held the destiny of two human beings in their frozen fingers yet they felt alienated from their ability to feel emotion as they plotted their political game of chess. The trouble was they felt uncertain that destiny was on their side, as they once had believed. There were too many imponderables, too many loose cannons beyond their control.

*********

Joseph Channing called round on his daughter on the apparent off chance. He had come to accept with great difficulty the news that George so sneakily landed on him. At the end of the day, his daughter was his daughter. When he mulled matters over after talking at length to John, he decided to invite the two women over to his baronial house, subconsciously thinking that if they came to his territory, they would bound to be on their best behaviour. When they turned up, he had to admit that Alice was certainly personable, very womanly and diplomatic. Their behaviour was certainly decorous enough though the three of them were a little on edge. After a while, he learned to relax with the two women around him as long as he learnt to block his mind off from thinking what they did in bed together. He finally managed to his ego bask in the attention of two glamorous women. After that shaky start, they managed to sketch out a working relationship and he revisited George's flat this time with the expectation of finding everything relatively normal.

"Daddy, it's so marvellous to see you again," George said, her face beaming, helping him out of his overcoat while Alice stood tactfully in the background. "You'll have your usual drink?"

"That couldn't be better. I must admit that you are learning at last to serve some decent whisky. I heartily approve of Alice's generous measures as well," Joseph said, neatly including the dark haired woman who somehow radiated calmness and who graciously thanked him. George sometimes thought that it was this was a major reason that tipped her 'died in the wool' conservative father in accepting Alice. Then again, he had been the most unlikely participant of a judge's picket line. The old certainties were breaking down but this turned out to be advantageous and liberating.

"You've got a case on, George? Am I intruding?" he asked spotting the mass of papers strewn over the dining room table.

"It's no problem, daddy. I've been working on it all evening and I'm as prepared as I ever will be. Alice is at a loose end so your company will be very welcome."

Joseph Channing beamed as if he were a cat that had been tickled under its ear. Alice felt relaxed and was an interested observer of the very strong bond between father and daughter.

*******

By contrast, John was a worried man that evening**. **Since George had taken up with Alice, he had notrun a trial where George appeared before him. He knew that Nikki and Helen, bless them, had done so well in gently sorting out his confused feelings but he suspected that his emotional adjustment to the new situation was more fragile than he wanted it to be. At the best of time, trials were a testing occasion with mixed emotions. It was like being an actor going out on stage and throwing himself on the mercies of the audience, especially as his brand of acting was liable to upstage other actors at the slightest opportunity. He knew that, despite appearances to the contrary, he conceived of his role of judge as a burden of responsibility rather than a vehicle for his own power. He rode the fast moving crosscurrents of dialogue with confidence, only to conjure justice out of the massed array of legal precedents. As he operated in court, his compassion was somehow dispassionate, clothed in the dry legal formulations, which kept emotion at bay, at one dimension removed. What worried him was that his confused feelings for George would throw him out of this 'judge mode' of thinking and the feeling that the LCD had somehow set up. He laughed to himself at the irony of the situation. So many times, he had managed to elbow his way to taking on cases that the political apparatchiks wanted to keep him away from. The irony was that, this time, he had nobly offered to recuse himself but this time they wouldn't let him opt out. 'Hoist by his own petard' was the phrase that came to his irony loving mind.

As he brooded over the matter, he lay back in his armchair and reflected on the diverse friendships that he had gathered along the way, both within and outside the legal profession. Images of intimate moments came into his mind that had nothing to do with sexual intimacy. He recalled Monty's gruff offer to take a case off his hands when he was enmeshed in yet another political controversy, Jo's open fear at his political recklessness and likewise George's exasperation even when she was with Haughton. He pictured Nikki's open admiration for him and Helen's obvious concern. He stretched himself back and helped himself to a nightcap. The trouble was that, in certain ways, he was a bit of a loner, an inner directed man so used to depending on his own resources. In a way that it was his strength that had carried him along for so many years yet his newfound popularity ought to let him receive succour. After all, he deserved it.

As he drained his glass, he silently blessed his friends wherever they were. Beyond a certain point, he had to trust to fate.

******

Nikki and Helen lay together in bed where Nikki was having a last minute attack of nerves. Helen's right arm was draped round her lover's shoulders while her left hand stroked her hair.

"Relax, babes. You're the veteran of standing up in the witness stand at your reappeal.I'm the virgin at standing up in the witness stand."

Helen's droll way of putting it made the dark haired woman laugh and start to chip away at her nerves. It was a primal feeling that had Nikki locked up in the prison of her feelings.

"Surely you must have been on the stand when you were wing governor? "

"The only occasion was giving character evidence at Monica Lindsay's appeal but it didn't touch me personally though I meant every word I said. This is different. This time, I have no professional identity to hide behind."

The truth of Helen's sober words got through to Nikki. Automatically, she put her lover's welfare before her own and felt a little ashamed of her own self indulgence as she saw it.

"So how come you look so calm?"

"I'm trusting to fate and my wits. By the way, how does your boss, Paul Williams look on you going on the stand?"

"He's been great," said Nikki enthusiastically. "He's backed me all the way on this one. He knows very well that this case may well be in the public eye and my previous history on the front-page news may be resurrected. He told me quite firmly to fight the good fight and let him worry about the fallout. He told me he's paid the higher salary to sort out this kind of thing."

"So what are you worrying about?" murmured Helen. Her green eyes transfixed Nikki's brown eyes as she went on to gently kiss her lips, her cheeks and her neck. The table light, bathed them in a dim light, which threw up in contrasts the straight etched contours of the taller woman's lover. Everything around her told the truth in loving, compassionate sounds and colours.

A wave of tenderness rose up in Nikki as she slipped her arms round Helen and she rested her head where she always wanted to be, between Helen's breasts. It felt somehow symbolic though it escaped her in exactly what way, as urges raised deep within her. The rightness of her feelings was least in doubt as they always had been.

******

By contrast, Brian Cantwell was relishing the prospect of the trial. He normally dressed in smart Savile Row shiny suits that made him look like a shark. He was a naturally combative man, who was a cynical 'hired gun', equally likely to defend as to prosecute. He had seen that fool Frobisher bumble his way through cases in the past and was glad to take this case on. The knowledge that he was up against George Channing was curiously stimulating. He had always thought of her as someone equally ruthless as him and who had made a lot of money over the years in lucrative civil cases. He knew that he had a fight on his hands and was prepared for it. His solicitor, John Wade, seemed efficient enough and had done a thorough job of researching the case. All in all, it looked to be a good fight and a large cheque at the end of it.

*********

Finally Karen lay in her modest flat, amongst the row of terraced houses. She'd been able to compose herself and somehow keeping focused on what she must do, one day at a time. The final night was at hand and somehow, she'd endured night after night of trying to get to sleep when all the horrors of her situation crowded in on her. Her bed was hard and unforgiving and it didn't let her get into a comfortable position. Try as she might, she couldn't settle off to sleep and it worried her that tomorrow, her wits had to be as sharp as never before. Finally, she filled up the bath as hot as she could stand. She would have preferred her shower at the flat she used to live in but this would have to do. She immersed herself in it and laid back full length, and looked up at the humble, bare light bulb. A huge feeling of gratitude flowed up inside her as the white abstract light shone down on her, while plain water started to soothe her nerves. She lay there for a long way before finally emerging. Drying herself down briefly with a large white towel, she stumbled into bed and drifted off to sleep. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Scene Thirty-One  
**

On a chill October morning, the empty courtroom had that cold echoing bareness about it first thing. The ceiling seemed to tower up into the sky, even overlooking and diminishing the height of the visitor's gallery. Everything looked clean and polished but there was no human feeling about it, Coope thought as she entered the chamber.

While she went about her appointed business, barristers, solicitors, witnesses and court staff made their way across London and started to fill up the Old Bailey. John Deed entered the court and made his way to his chambers, his face tight drawn, Coope glancing anxiously at him. Finally Karen arrived, dressed in a stylish blue coat, her face made up and every hair on her head neatly in place. She was consciously using this as a prop to her uncertain self-confidence, highly conscious that her life was at stake. She threaded her way along the corridors and the usher showed her to her appointed place in the dock where she stood up straight and looked ahead of her. She wondered to herself just how the day would end and how she would leave this building, on a day, which would decide her future. George entered the courtroom walking in a stately fashion, accompanied by Claire while Brian Cantwell, flanked by John Wade strolled casually into their allotted place. Finally John Deed, immaculately attired in his red robes, starched white collar and ceremonial wig came into view up on high, looking every inch the judge. Inwardly, his nerves were drum tight as he negotiated his way towards his throne and George caught his eye. She allowed herself slightly more than a professional smile as she sensed how tense he was. Only Sir Ian was in the visitor's gallery and the presence of this solitary stranger made Karen feel unsupported. She knew that none of the witnesses for Karen's defence were permitted into the courtroom until they had given evidence but she allowed herself a split second flash of resentment that her old work colleagues could have put in an appearance but didn't.

The two thuds on the floor announced the start of trial and the jury were duly sworn in. The court usher spoke in his dry tone of voice while Karen gripped the rail firmly. This was it.

"Ms Karen Betts, you are charged with causing death by dangerous driving of one Gerald Baker. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," she uttered in as firm a voice as she could gather up. Right now, she gathered her native strength and confidence into herself. How she would hold up was another question altogether.

"Mr. Cantwell, perhaps you care to open for the prosecution," John intoned.

Brian Cantwell eased himself to his feet and his eyes flitted to members of the jury, to John Deed and finally back to George who studiously ignored him. The grin on his face unsettled Karen. He seemed hard and implacable. She mentally flinched, anticipating that her character would be systematically rubbished.

"The case before you is one that makes any right minded person wonder how and why a human life could be so casually and causelessly taken away yet leaves no doubt that the defendant standing before you in the dock took the life of one, Gerald Baker whose only mistake was in standing in the way of the car that took his life. I shall call on three eyewitnesses, to testify that they positively identified the defendant behind the wheel of the car, as she drove headlong at the deceased and saw her just before she hared off down the road to avoid being detained for the consequences. I shall also call one James Fenner who works at the same prison where the accused used to work. I shall also call DI Sullivan to give evidence of his questioning of the defendant who made the extraordinary claim, that she stayed in her flat all evening and that somehow, her car was spirited away past a modern security system to a flat complex, as if a prisoner could simply walk out of the prison that she used to be in charge of."

Brian Cantwell's pointed display of sarcasm was designed to milk the most of the situation and Karen felt acutely embarrassed at what the jury was thinking of her. He paused to let the jury give full weight to his final conclusion.

"The crown contests that she is a cowardly liar, desperate to escape the consequences of her actions and that this is an open and shut case where the truth will be made obvious to you all."

George was busy scribbling down notes and was surprised that Brian Cantwell kept his opening address so short and sharp. Either he was being over confident or else he was saving up a surprise for when it could be best deployed. Either way, she wasn't taking any chances. She hoped that Karen wouldn't feel totally abandoned. She couldn't help noticing that no one from Larkhall was there in Karen's hour of need. From what she had heard from Nikki, some prisoners would have been there, if they had half a chance. George allowed herself the luxury of a brief moment of anger at the prison officers who could have given support but didn't, before the first witness dragged her back to the matter in hand. She got to her feet, glancing sideways at Karen and delivered her counterargument. Her final plea to the jury to listen with open ears was heartfelt. Their capacity for understanding would be central for her case.

"The case before you is far from the open and shut case that I am sure that my learned colleague would have you believe. You have before you a woman who has spent her life in one form of public service or another, yet the prosecution would have you believe that she departed so unaccountably from her normal habits. I will seek to argue how grotesquely improbable it is that my client drove under the influence of alcohol straight at Gerald Baker and then abandon the scene. I intend to call as witness, Karen Betts to explain the extraordinarily convoluted battle for power at Larkhall Prison, which is crucial in understanding what happened and why.

The once certain fact is that the car belonging to the defendant was taken out on the roads. The question is, was she the driver? Helen Stewart and Nikki Wade will give character evidence and will describe how they tailed her car for a considerable period of time. Shirley Cheetham a private investigator will give evidence on what the police failed to pick up, so eager they were to notch up another success to their record. CCTV evidence will put in the frame, the one man who was in open conflict with my client the morning before the tragic event took place. I shall call Tony Foster who had the advantage of watching the car when it was stationary after it was removed from my client's flat. The crux of the matter is this. Was this some random, meaningless killing or was there some logic behind the sequence of events? The further question begs to be asked, to whose advantage interest was this killing? You, the jury will find that the whole event was a callous, contrived, premeditated murder, but one which the defendant is utterly innocent of.

Above all else, I ask you, the jury, to listen with open ears, take nothing for granted, to make no assumptions."

*******

She looked intently at the first prosecution witness as she took her place in the witness stand. She had that rigid certainty of manner about her, especially when Brian Cantwell led her through the preliminary introductions.

"Can you explain for the benefit of the jury just how and why you happened to be on the scene when that terrible event happened."  
"There's really nothing to it. I run an outside burger stall on the main street near where it happened. I get to meet a lot of people in the neighbourhood. I was walking along the street and got to talking to some mates of mine. It was a warm evening and I enjoyed the company. It's a friendly area and you don't have to watch out for muggers and teenage hooligans."

"Where were you standing in relation to the main road?"  
"We were in a sort of semi circle and I was facing outwards. I had a good view of the road."  
"When were you first aware of the car in question?"  
"It was a quiet night so you could see and hear everything. All at once, I heard this engine revving up and tyres screeching. It was making an almighty racket. I said to my neighbour it must be one of those teenage joy riders when it came straight at us."  
"At what point did you start to get worried?"  
"She had a wide open road to drive on. If she'd only slowed down and driven normally, she could have cleared us easily. I could see her swerve over, straight for us. That's when I jumped out of the way."  
"Were any of you standing on the pavement? Could it be said that any of you could have contributed to the accident?"  
"A group of us were standing… say a couple of feet, no more off the pavement at the most. Some were on the pavement. Poor Gerald was a bit slow on his feet and slow in his thinking. I knew him well."

"I refer to exhibit F1 in the bundle of evidence, which clearly shows a perfectly wide road. Mrs. Welles, can you examine the photograph and testify that this is how the road looked on the day in question," Brian Cantwell said in smooth persuasive tones, turning to the jury to give that final twist in his argument to lock it in with their thought processes.  
"Yeah. That shows it just right. I was standing right in the middle of the photo."  
"How sure are you that it was the defendant driving the car and how much do you blame her for the accident?"  
"Totally. She never stopped; she made no attempt to stop. She just drove on. You couldn't miss all that blond hair. It was her in the dock. I was walking home from my sister's and saw her driving all over the place. She made no attempt to avoid him."

Mrs. Welles gave off that venomous sense of triumphant self righteousness that made Karen's spirits sink into her own boots and caused a slight flicker of a smile on the corner of George's lips. She knew very well that such dogmatic people could easily be their worst enemies.

George hesitated slightly before starting in with her cross-examination and Mrs. Welles glared back in a suspicious manner. She was determined not let her put one over her with clever lawyer tricks.

"Let's start with the facts, Mrs. Welles. The accident took place Friday August 19th 2001. Did you see the paper with the defendant's photograph?"  
"Course I did. I got the Saturday's copy of the Sun. It was the talk of the neighbourhood."  
"Turning to your statement to the police, item FW1 in the bundle of evidence of evidence. I noticed that it is dated Monday August 22nd 2001. Had you contacted the police before then?"  
"Course I hadn't. I've got a business to run. I hadn't time to spend hours at the police station. I'd have lost business."  
"Mrs. Welles, don't you think it possible that you had a split second glance at the driver, saw the newspaper and imagined the driver was the woman in the photograph?"

The woman started to bristle at the insinuation that her subconscious was playing tricks with her subconscious. In her life, white was white and black was black.

"I can see what you're getting at… but you're wrong, Mrs. clever, clever lawyer. I saw what I saw. That woman was definitely Karen Betts. I don't make no mistakes."

"Let's come to the night in question. Can you describe for the benefit of the court the visibility of the night in question?"  
'It was dark, not surprising as it was nighttime," the other woman said huffily, determined to score the first point.  
"And what about the street lighting?" came the smiling reply.  
"Well, what about it?"  
"Was the street well lit, badly lit or somewhere in between," George drawled with elaborate patience.  
"About average."  
"Was there a street light near you that might have illuminated the scene and, in particular the driver in the car?"  
"How should I know? I don't check out where the nearest lamppost is."  
"But it's not on the photograph, which my learned counsel referred the court to, look at item F1 again. You did supposedly identify the driver who was sat in the furthest away seat from where you were standing even though, by your own evidence, the driver only hesitated for a second before driving away."  
"There was enough light for me to see the driver. It was her, I tell you. I could see her as clear as daylight with that long blond hair of hers."  
"Something tells me that you're jealous of her. You must admit that the defendant is a good looking woman."

Instantly, the atmosphere froze, as Mrs. Welles turned red in the face. Her jealousies were made plain to see. John was transfixed by the look on George's face, which instantly told him how George could find another woman attractive. It brought back all the traumas he had gone through in one blinding flash. It forced him against his inclinations to see George in a different light than he had been used to.  
"I must protest at the personal attack made on my witness. It is entirely improper," Brian Cantwell protested.  
"I direct the jury to disregard that last remark," John said in hoarse wooden tones. Instead of the withering glance that George expected from him, she saw him gazing blankly in her general direction. Instantly, she understood and while she felt sorry for him, she got herself nonchalantly out of the tense situation, hardly skipping a beat.

"We'll let the jury decide on that one. No more questions."

When John asked Brian Cantwell if he had any more questions to ask of his client, he immediately jumped up and got her to protest, that she had seen what she'd seen, that she couldn't possibly have got it wrong and she wouldn't hear of any suggestions to the contrary. George wasn't entirely displeased at the way this heavy-handed testimony was laid on with a trowel.

The rest of the morning crawled onwards when the two other witnesses gave similar evidence. George extracted from them the admission that they had stood further away from the accident than Mrs. Welles and as time went on during her cross-examination, their sense of their own certainty and conviction in their version of events faded. The atmosphere started to hang heavy on the courtroom that not everything was, as it seemed. In the meantime, Karen stood straight in the dock and her mind frantically sought to discern just how the trial was going. To her, this was like something out of a Kafka novel and she couldn't wait to check with George as to how her prospects stood to date.


	32. Chapter 32

**Scene Thirty-Two**

While John, quickly adjourned the court hearing for lunch, George directed a questioning eye at him, seeing him so quiet, not like his normal inquisitive, domineering self. As he retreated back to his chambers, George gathered up her files and made her way out of the courtroom.

As Karen stepped down from the dock, it crossed her mind that, at least, she was free to move within the normal confines of the court building. Was it only the other day that Crystal Gordon was similarly placed in the dock, between two prison officers and she, the detached professional, pronounced an unsatisfactory character judgment on her? In her character reference, she had set out the facts of Crystal stealing the present for Sylvia Hollamby's thirtieth wedding anniversary and giving it to a charity shop. She knew very well that she didn't feel half as judgmental as she had on that long ago day.

She followed George through into the lobby. She had to hear from her how these opening rounds of the battle had gone. Did the witnesses come over as credible or had George cast enough doubts on their evidence? She couldn't help but feel feeling jumpy even though she knew that the prosecution was building up their case first. Her normal level-headed nature was being severely tested right now, especially as she relied on others to defend her. She had a severe conscience in disturbing a professional on the job as, after all, she had been one once.

"I hate to bother you, George, but just how did the morning work out?"  
"Karen, I'll have to keep it quick as I need to prepare for the afternoon session," the blond woman said, looking distracted. She had enough presence of mind to kindly place her hands on the other woman's shoulders. She spoke in calm tones with as much sense of reassurance as she could conjure up.  
"I'm pretty sure we made some inroads into the credibility of the witnesses. For that reason, I think the opening exchanges went as well as I could have hoped for. You must keep your spirits up. We'll have our turn later. Think of the witnesses who are batting for our side, Karen."

Just then, Nikki and Helen came clattering into the lobby, looking windblown and harassed.  
"We've just come over on our lunch-break, "Helen explained rapidly, twenty words a second," so we thought we'd keep you company."  
"We'll take the full day off when we take the stand," Nikki offered in her considerate way." You leave Karen with us, George. We know you've got to go someplace else and work on the case."

Both blond-haired women smiled appreciatively at this generous help. Karen found a waiting room, which had its usual institutional look of being well-used. Somehow, the other two women managed to chat in that light, inconsequential style which veered its tricky course in avoiding being either too heavy or too trivial, while Karen smoked many cigarettes in quick succession. A knock on the door signaled the usher coming to ensure that she was ready. She was more grateful than her reserved nature could express as the kindness of these two women, surely her friends, as otherwise she would have sweated out the endless dead time till God knows what fresh mental horrors would descend on her.

DI Sullivan strolled into the courtroom, feeling the man of the moment. To his egocentric personality, he was the expert witness, the one to set the record straight. After he took the oath, he thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets while Brian Cantwell readied himself to start questioning the keen as mustard detective inspector. Suddenly, the policeman became aware of two penetrating blue eyes looking down on him from above.  
"Mr. Sullivan, take your hands out of your pockets when you're in court."  
"I beg your pardon?" the other man said in amazement. He had never been corrected before in this fashion.  
"This may be your habit when you're at Larkhall police station but I view such behaviour as treating the court with contempt. I do not allow anyone to behave this way and I have ways of making you fall into line if I choose to exercise them."

John Deed's steely hard tone of voice precisely articulating every hard-edged consonant startled the other man. He immediately cooperated, stumbling his apologies. George grinned warmly up at John who immediately felt a million times better in himself. That intervention got him through that invisible barrier that had held him back. It reminded himself what he and George still had in common. George knew beyond doubt that John would be back to his paradoxically endearing interfering self. John wouldn't be John without that quality.

Standing in the witness box, Karen felt that she had suddenly come back from the dead as that glowing feeling of warmth coursed round her veins. She was hugely amused in seeing her bitter enemy pulled up short and this sharp exchange acted like a tonic in reviving her spirits. She felt that this good-looking man had some human sympathy about him and that he would give her a chance.

"Mr. Cantwell, perhaps you care to examine your witness," John said in languid tones of voice to the barrister whose wits had, very exceptionally deserted him. He flushed with embarrassment but snapped back into gear.

"DI Sullivan, can you explain your duties and how you came to be involved with the investigation?"

"Well, your worship, after the hit and run accident we traced the owner through our link with Swansea DVLA. By sheer chance, I took a phone call from the car's owner, Karen Betts who had the cool cheek to report the car stolen. Unfortunately, I was busy finishing my report on another case so DS Reivers was the original investigating officer. He took DC Greer with him. They drove over to Larkhall Prison and immediately identified Karen Betts from the descriptions offered. Grasping the opportunity offered, DS Reivers promptly arrested her. By the time their police car returned to the station, I was freed up to interview the accused."

"DI Sullivan, the proper term to describe Miss Betts is defendant. You may recall that a person is innocent until proved guilty," came the stern voice from above him and Brian Cantwell glared at this cocksure man whose manner was starting to visibly rub up the jury the wrong way.

"So, DI Sullivan, what caused your investigation to charge Miss Betts for the offence?"

"We had three good independent descriptions of the driver who had very distinctive features and long blond hair. This fitted the description of the defendant exactly. When questioned, she had absolutely no alibi to back up her claim that she stayed in all night when she could so easily have slipped out in her car. She claimed she knew nothing about the hit and run incident. We didn't need to look any further."

"What made you reject Miss Betts's explanations of her innocence?"

"She had no alibi. It was her car that was involved in the accident. Her manner was hostile and argumentative."

"Did you find any physical evidence to directly connect Miss Betts with the accident?"

"A blue coat was left behind in the car and a bottle of whisky in the passenger's seat. They had the defendant's fingerprints all over them."

"How did you locate the witnesses who identified Miss Betts?"

"When we called at the scene of the crime, everyone was coming out of the woodwork. We got names and addresses and took statements over the next few days. It boiled down to the three witnesses who had seen the most but others went out of their way to tell us what they'd seen."

"Are you planning to introduce them as evidence, Mr Cantwell? You know the rules on late evidence," warned John.

"No My Lord. DI Sullivan, can you explain for the benefit of the court why the additional witnesses weren't produced," Brian Cantwell rapidly responded to both judge and witness.

"They didn't add anything to the witness evidence given already. We were happy with the three witnesses we had who were closest to the scene of the crime. It all seemed pretty conclusive."

George was amused to see how the man's natural cockiness had been knocked out of him by John's steely determination and his subsequent flat and understated manner of speaking. She got to her feet and the manner in which she moved away from her bench was feline and threatening. It radiated a sense of danger to the policeman, knowing that his evidence would be raked over. George wasted no time in launching her attack.

"Mr. Sullivan, why on earth would a woman who had been involved in a hit and run accident report the theft of her own car to the police?"

"I can think of a number of reasons," blustered DI Sullivan, instantly on the defensive. "An attempt to throw us off the scent for a start. In our line of work, we come across strange exhibitions of human nature."

"Or there is the alternative possibility is that my client is perfectly innocent. Did you ever consider that possibility?"

"Not when she left her coat and a bottle of whisky behind."

"Did you ask her why she would accidentally leave her coat behind and very conveniently leave the bottle of whisky?" George pursued sharply, with neatly placed emphasis. "It makes no sense in the normal course of events but it would if my client has been set up by the real culprit."

"The objects had her fingerprints all over them so there was no need to ask questions on this point," DI Sullivan retorted with an attempt to rebuff this deadly woman who was pressing him so hard.

"As they would do since they were her possessions," answered George, sliding in the knife with deadly precision. With perfect timing, she let a moment of silence elapse to let the full implications sink in after the rapid swordplay of words. There was a slight smile on her lips as she readied herself to ask the next question. The deliberate pause unnerved the policeman. "DI Sullivan, have you come across the defendant before, personally or professionally?"

The man turned bright red with mingled embarrassment and anger, which made any reply superfluous.

"Can you recount for the benefit of the jury your previous experience with my client?" insisted George, shifting the emphasis.

"I must protest, my lord," Brian Cantwell intervened, jumping to his feet. Inwardly, he was fuming with John Wade for neglecting this point. "Whatever previous encounter my witness may or may or not have had with the defendant is hardly relevant as a policeman is expected to be as professional and impartial…..as yourself."

"Flattering though your description is of me," John said in amused, relaxed tones of voice." This has aroused my curiosity, my desire for the truth. Moreover, it has a bearing on the conduct of the investigation, as it is possible that investigators found what they wanted to find. Doubtless, this can be further tested when the defendant herself is also asked to give evidence."

For the first time since the trial started, Karen permitted herself a slight smile, which was not lost on many observant eyes.

"I investigated a suspicious death of a prisoner at Larkhall Prison when the defendant was wing governor. It turned out that the prisoner died because she was allergic to nuts. It seemed to me that until the postmortem results came in to say otherwise, that a fellow inmate had obviously poisoned the prisoner, who had many enemies on the wing," DI Sullivan responded curtly.

"Highly interesting I'm sure, but where does my client fit into the picture? What interaction did you have with her and what was its nature?" George asked with an exaggerated note of puzzlement in her voice. Instinct told her to keep digging.

"She provided me with facilities to carry out the investigation and we liaised on matters of mutual interest," DI Robinson answered in guarded tones, his eyes swivelling sideways at Karen's unsettling gaze in his direction.

"So did you approach the investigation with any hostile feelings towards my client when you remembered her, being someone with a better than average memory for faces and names as befits your job?" George persisted in steely tones. Brian Cantwell noted ruefully the skill with which George was already tying the man up in knots.

"I try not to let my personal feelings interfere with the performance of my duties."  
George smiled broadly and turned to the jury at the duality of this obvious non-reply. She had to admit to feeling a certain mean amusement at the way these proceedings were going.

"Did you check on the CCTV evidence and if not, why not?"

"I had all the evidence I needed with three independent witnesses and the evidence found in the car," D I Sullivan said, repeating the key word to bolster his case.

"Care to comment on the man possibly running away from the car and that my client wasn't on the tape doing the same? I refer to the bundle of evidence labelled JF1 who has been positively identified as James Fenner, Principal Officer on G Wing, Larkhall Prison where my client used to work as his boss."

"Sheer coincidence. He could have been out for a jog for all we know," came the lame answer, which drew a ripple of amusement round the court.

"Did you investigate the possibility that someone else broke into the flat and if not, why not?"

"It was such a cock and bull yarn. We hear that sort of story every day."

"In your professional, unbiased judgment that is," cut in George, acid dripping from the tone of her voice. "No more questions."

"Do you have any further questions for the witness, Mr. Cantwell?" John Deed asked in languid tones, knowing knew very well what he would do in the barrister's shoes,

"None."

"Court is adjourned until tomorrow."

There was a collective exhalation of breath from the court as the day's trial ended on that dramatic note. Brian Cantwell turned round to John Wade who was sitting, shocked and surprised.  
"John, you'd better talk to this James Fenner tomorrow morning, very first thing, and remind him to be on the ball, no slipups. He's our last witness and our last high card to play," Brian Cantwell commanded John Wade tersely, speaking behind his hand at the other man. Inwardly, he was aghast at being offered such poor material to work with.  
"Of course, of course, Brian," he replied in obsequious tones.

At the back of the court, Sir Ian held his head in his hands with the sickening feeling that, once again; a major trial was starting to go seriously off track. The only thing they all agreed with was that there promised to be a tense hard fought battle in the morning.


	33. Chapter 33

**Scene Thirty-Three**

During the run up to the trial, interlocking circumstances had walled Fenner into a sense of physical and emotional isolation, the first day's proceedings included. He had, after all, been instructed by that stuck up solicitor type to turn up on the day, give evidence as they'd agreed and would have no access to what was said before he gave evidence. He accepted what he was told as he had no mental purchase on the rarefied world of court procedure to dare think differently. Demeaning experiences in his sporadic courtroom experiences over the years reminded him that he was only a glorified squaddie after all. He therefore carried on with his job as if nothing else was happening so the way he spent the Monday night before his court appearance was typical of the man. He continued his isolation out of choice, taking the form of watching football on TV and slowly emptying successive cans of beer. The flickering screen, the alcohol, the distanced shouts of the crowd, the confident commentary of the hoped for victory all soothed his nerves better than Di whose conversation he answered in curt monosyllables.

When he finally set off for court from Larkhall Prison after a brief appearance at the PO's meeting, he was at his most snappish and irritable. He asked Bodybag to cover for him with a mumbled explanation room about 'private business' and quickly and discreetly made his exit. He knew that the issue was simple- either Betts goes down or he does. He'd have to work very hard to get what he wanted but if he did, and word gets around, no one will dare to stand in his way. Even Di Barker must realize that she might wear the suit but he would have the real power. As he slid out of the front gates, he vowed to himself that all he needed was a bit of luck, and he'd be protected against anyone trying to bring him down.

In the meantime, John lay back in his chambers, worrying about how he could do justice to this evil man who had threatened to blackmail his friends. That told him all he knew about the man. He had the nasty feeling that Fenner might run amok during the trial and he would need to be as sharp witted and in control as never before. Composing himself as best as he could, he let Coope adjust his robes and he walked out towards his allotted place.

Fenner looked furtively and suspiciously around him when he entered the courtroom. His face had been receptive to the last minute nagging from his toffee-nosed brief. He'd mouthed the right phrases in response, but he'd secretly vowed to himself to reserve independence of action if need be. After all, he'd done what he'd been asked for, hadn't he?

It was in this frame of mind that he finally went into the witness box and tonelessly repeated the oath. The words slurred out 'nothing but the truth' filled Karen with disgust. It was only as he took a sideways glance up at the judge that he had the shock of his life. His smoothly composed face contorted in rage as he immediately recognized the man in regal robes as the man who had beaten him up and, worst of all, damaged his self-esteem.

"This can't be real. I insist on a different judge. He picked a fight with me once. I mean how can he do a fair job? He's bound to be biased," Fenner protested loudly, arms outstretched and playing to the gallery.

John silenced the man with a glare and held forth in frosty tones to make sure of his authority. His natural combativeness took charge.

"For the benefit of the court, I am placing it on record that, yes, I did have a fight with the witness before you. Until then, I'd never seen him before in my life. Judges are not locked up hermetically in ivory towers away from the rough and tumble of life. There are situations where a judge is obliged to withdraw from presiding over a trial but this situation isn't one of them. Mr. Cantwell,"John added, turning towards the barrister," you really ought to explain to your witness that he can't try and pick his brand of judge as if he were shopping at Tesco's. You know very well that if it can be shown that I have in any way misdirected the trial or shown personal bias, that can become grounds for an appeal. I have ruled on this point, make no mistake about it."

As John Deed forcibly exerted his power and his wisdom, Fenner immediately realized his mistake. His outburst was in severe danger of ruining his best ploy. He retracted immediately with an appearance of contrition.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know that the law was as liberal on matters like this. I've always prided myself on doing things by the book. It's being in the prison service for so many years and the army before that."

John was sickened by this man's 'butter wouldn't melt in his mouth' manner and immediately saw how the land lay. He had no option but to be gracious.

"Thanks, Mr. Fenner, your apology is accepted and likewise your concern for good form. Perhaps you care to carry on, Mr. Cantwell."

What a sickening smoothie, Karen muttered to herself. By contrast, she admired the neat way that the judge extricated himself from this awkward situation and countered Fenner's ploy. She stood rigidly, staring in front of her, not trusting herself to look in his direction. The sound of his smooth lying voice was quite bad enough.

Brian Cantwell eyed the man carefully as he was relying on him to provide background material on the defendant. He knew that John Wade was sold on him but a niggling doubt was at the back of his mind.

"First of all, Mr. Fenner, can you say a few words about your personal and work background."

"As I said before, I served Queen and Country as a humble private, nothing special, didn't earn any medals. Along the line, I wanted to put roots down so I joined the prison service like a lot of ex squaddies do. I learned by jail-craft on the job so I gradually worked my way up as Principal Officer, one grade short of managing a wing. I got married, settled down with two kids. Trouble is, the job means working funny shifts and it broke up my marriage. So here I am."

"Did you have a relationship with the defendant and, if so, can you describe it?"

"Well," Fenner heaved a remarkable facsimile of a regretful sight," Me and Karen, well, we were thrown together a lot and it's natural that we'd get involved. We lived together for a while, even thought of getting married but let's say it, she got too involved in the prisoner's problems. All the pressure of responsibility got to her. That's why we broke up a few months ago. I think that added to the stress she was under, caused her to drink a lot to try and unwind from the day's work."

"So why did she resign from the prison service?"

"She made a bad judgment on one of our more troublesome prisoners. Instead of being kept on segregation for her own safety, she was let out on the wing on her recommendation. As soon as a prison officer's back was turned, she got out a home made noose, put it round her neck and hanged herself, in full view of the prisoners. It was a hell of a shock to everyone, I can tell you, me included."

"So what did you notice about the defendant's general behaviour and general state of mind prior to the murder of Gerald Baker, Mr. Fenner?"

"I object, my lord," George protested, having restrained herself with great difficulty as this sanctimonious rubbish was being spewed out. This was the final straw. "How can this man's observations, talented as a jailer though he might be, have any possible validity in appraising my client's state of mind?"

Brian Cantwell was ready for this one and immediately repaid George in her own coin.

"In the absence of any other evidence to the opposite, I submit that the court should hear Mr. Fenner's description of what the defendant said and did in the run up to the crime in question so long as he avoids amateur psychologising. My learned council has had ample opportunity to have called on a practicing psychiatrist to give evidence in support of the defendant."

George shut up. She knew that Brian Cantwell was perfectly correct. The only reason why she hadn't done so was that she believed that Karen Betts, under pressure though she might be, was basically down to earth and levelheaded. She was furious with herself for making this mistake.  
"I will allow the witness to testify what the defendant said and did but not to stray too far in his own interpretation of events," John pronounced.

Behind Fenner's smooth of façade, he did a mental jump for joy. He had sneaked his way through to the situation he wanted to get to.

"Well, it's difficult to say. She cut herself off from the prison officers. She started to get all sorts of paranoid ideas that I'd been carrying on with one of the prisoners. Of course, that's totally against rules and regulations but she insisted and told me she'd be sending a file to Area management, bypassing the governing governor. She was way out of line. I went to see her to have it out with her, and had a row over it. I didn't get very far, needless to say."

Karen clenched her fists at the way Fenner sounded so smooth and persuasive and, on the face of it, his last criticism would have been just if there hadn't been a self-interested manipulating snake running Larkhall. Brian Cantwell felt satisfied with himself while John Wade felt good inside that that the man he had interviewed was so convincing.

"I must ask you the obvious question, did you go out that evening and if so, where?"

"I felt really ill from the row so I headed off home and crashed out. When I came to, I wanted some fresh air so I had a wander round on my own to clear my head. Couldn't say where I went. After a bit, I went home and got some sleep."

*******

George wasted no time in launching into the attack. A definite charge of hostile electricity ran round the room, as it seemed fitting that this misogynist man and dominant aristocratic woman were destined to be sworn enemies. Curious glances were directed at the overhead projector that George had set up. What magic bag of tricks would she unfold?

"Mr. Fenner, is this a picture of the car in question? I refer you to item KB1 in the bundle of evidence. For the benefit of the jury, it is a very distinctive green soft-top MG sports car.

"I think so."

"You don't sound very positive. You lived with my client for a while. The car was parked outside Larkhall Prison for several years, yes?"

"It is her car," Fenner muttered.

"So did you notice the car parked on an obscure back lane and wonder what my client was doing?"  
"I had a lot on my mind. You don't notice everything."

"You mean as a long serving prison officer, you switch off your faculties of observation outside work? Are you really saying that you didn't notice that very distinctive car?"

"Don't think I did."

"For the benefit of the court, can you tell us where your home address is?"

For the first time, Fenner couldn't stop himself glaring round the court like a cornered wild animal as he gave the answer. George, of course, had checked this for herself before the hearing ever started. To Karen's intense relief, George's persistent questions, chipping away at his credibility were starting to bear fruit. It was extraordinary to her how the smooth talking man was starting to change before her very eyes. George produced her masterstroke in switching on the slide projector and a street map was projected on the sidewall of the court. She pointed to the screen and indicated where the car was dumped which was well off the beaten track, near to a canal. It was clear that a number of miles separated the two locations, a confession which George wrung from the increasingly exasperated Fenner.

"The CCTV camera footage places you very close to where and when the car was parked. It is interesting that you never mentioned in your testimony Karen getting out of the car. I put it to you that you were the driver of the car and you ran down Gerald Baker in cold blood. It is a much simpler explanation for a jury to accept than this cock and bull yarn that you have given to the court."

"No way would I do that. I'm a responsible prison officer. I've never stepped over the line, not once," Fenner spat back with narrowed eyes.

"What would you say if you were seen parked up and putting on a blond wig and that a witness will testify to that effect?" George asked, keeping perfectly calm at this barefaced effrontery. She knew that this man would try and ridicule the suggestion and her, by extension.

"Objection, my lord," challenged Brian Cantwell, livid with anger as Fenner predictably switched tack and started laughing with every expression on his face except his eyes."I do not see this in the bundle of evidence."

"Unless direct evidence of this is submitted in the proper time and way, the witness need not answer this question," John dryly observed while secretly, his curiosity was roused. However, Fenner had got the bit between his teeth and he charged into the fray, anxious to impose his version of the truth on the court. He had hoped that others would join in with his laughter, but the jury was silent, hanging on every word that was said.

"Me put a blond wig on. That's laughable. The next thing you'll say is that I put lipstick on. I'm totally one hundred per cent straight."

"And her blue coat as well, Mr. Fenner," George said, with perfect poise, attracting a glare from John not to push her luck.

"This is a complete joke. I shouldn't have to answer these ridiculous accusations. I've got plenty to do back on the job instead of wasting valuable court time."

"Didn't you have an almighty row with my client the morning of the murder in question as she threatened to send a file exposing you of sexually harassing an inmate?" George counterattacked, shifting onto safer ground, much to John's relief.

"You get me proof of that," Fenner shouted, wagging a menacing finger in his direction." There's not a shred of evidence You're making it all up. You're trying to bring me down, like every scheming woman I've ever known." Fenner suddenly raged.

George was utterly astonished at how quickly the man suddenly switched in his manner. He made the fatal mistake of personalizing all his deepest antagonisms on George. Karen stood open mouthed as she saw the many faces of Fenner. This was surely the way he'd behaved to every strong-minded woman who disagreed with him, Nikki, Yvonne, Helen, herself and finally George. With immaculate timing, she let his verbal aggression reverberate round the courtroom. John looked on with fascination as he had had a similar run in, along with all these women. While Claire looked on with professional admiration, John Wade was angered by this dominating woman with a slippery tongue.

"So you did have the row? Isn't it possible that you tried to frame Karen for this killing? All the evidence fits in and it does serve your interest rather neatly?"  
"My lord, I must protest. My learned council is trying to browbeat the witness with no evidence to back it up," objected Brian Cantwell.  
With lightning rapidity, George had the final word, as was her wont.  
"We'll let the jury decide this. No further questions."

When John looked at the clock, he was astonished how time had moved on. The rapid cut and thrust of debate had carried them on till lunchtime.

"Mr. Cantwell, do you wish to reexamine the witness?" John said in a matter of fact tone of voice, fully aware of Fenner's lowering presence and hostile glare.

"No, my lord," Brian Cantwell said quickly. He wanted the man out of the court and to stop him tearing further huge rents in the fabric of his case. He was livid with John Wade for being so gullible. A little voice inside him told him that George was on the right tack but, like the hired gun that he was, was going to carry on the fight. His combative nature didn't let him give up easily.

"Court is adjourned," John intoned, staring round at the court. A tense silence hung in the room like a storm cloud. This was real brinkmanship in silently challenging Fenner to sound off about the fight and slag off Helen and Nikki in open court. He was thankful that he had verbally outfaced him in the terms that he set when he had that set to in their flat. Hopefully, it would persuade him that he had no power of blackmail over his two friends. Fortunately, Fenner thought better of it, shook off the offered help of the usher and stomped out of the courtroom like an angry bear.

This was like a scene out of one of his favourite black and white Westerns, the shootout on Main Street, John thought whimsically to himself. A huge breath of collective relief followed the man's precipitate exit.


	34. Chapter 34

**Scene Thirty-Four**Nikki and Helen's thoughts were a million miles away from the daily work. Their computer screens stared back at them blankly. Their fingers pressed the keyboards but their minds were elsewhere. They engaged their conversational part of their minds to talk in their customary friendly fashion. Paul Williams looked on and admired Nikki for the way that she either kept up appearances or disciplined herself to keep working.

******

In the meantime, Karen readied herself for what was to come. She had felt like a disembodied person, separated from the drama that enfolded around her, that was about her but didn't involve her. She reached out for that professional faculty to give her that facility to handle an emergency. And to think she was once desperately concerned that Jim Fenner would live after Shell Dockley had stabbed him, she thought ruefully to herself. For the first time, it occurred to her**,** to admire Helen's professionalism that night. As she saw George stand up ready to begin her line of questions, she took a deep breath and her mind snapped back to the present.

"First of all, Ms Betts, can you explain briefly for the benefit of the court, your work background."

"When I was young, I always wanted to be a nurse, to heal people, make then whole again. I joined the Women's Royal Auxiliary Force as a convenient way to get into nursing and qualified there as a state registered nurse. I have a 20 year old son and after working in a busy London hospital, I left to join the prison service," Karen replied carefully.

"Why did you make that career move. It sounds an unusual choice."

"I changed for a variety of reasons. I needed security and a better salary to support my son. Whatever you've heard of nurses' pay is absolutely true. In one way, I got disillusioned with nursing in a way after seeing too many dead bodies but in another, I took care to update my nursing qualifications for reasons I was never sure of. I've found it a useful second string as I've successfully delivered a prisoner's baby in a cell once. I've also got to care very much about the prisoners in my care, that a lot of them need serious help. The term 'jailer' is only a fraction of the job description of a good prison officer. I rose through the ranks, took a degree on the side, to get to become a wing governor in a women's prison."

"So what went wrong in your life?" George asked to Karen's amazement at the blond haired woman's capacity for simplicity and understanding.

"It can be summed up in two words, Jim Fenner. I freely admit that I have a weakness for smooth talking rogues- though I could use a stronger word than that. In brief, he wormed his way into my confidence and affections and set me against someone who I gather is appearing as a witness for my defence, Helen Stewart who is now one of my dearest friends. I couldn't be everywhere on the wing and I was dependent on being told the truth. Jim Fenner was in a pivotal position, as the most senior and experienced prison officer and acting as go between to me. I was fooled by him for a long time until I finally saw through him. He raped me when I went round to see him at his bedsit as he was having a rough time at work and I felt sorry for him. He took advantage of the situation and of me against my wishes…….."

For the first time, Karen's steady delivery of her testimony faltered as the sense of hurt and betrayal hit home as she mentally relived the horror of that night. George's big blue eyes and steady gaze held her attention and stabilized her.

"It's difficult to explain to a stranger how very plausible he can appear, how he can present the right face to suit the occasion. Only the very insightful can find out what a violent misogynist deceitful man he can be…….."

Karen paused at this moment as her description brought out a welter of conflicting memories of the man and she had to exercise iron self control before she could trust herself to continue. A breathless hush descended on the courtroom as her words locked into their vivid memories of seeing Fenner on the stand only the other day. What she couldn't see was how George stared at Karen with feelings of jubilation rising up in her. Go for it, Karen, she breathed as George sensed a turning point in the case that tilted the balance of credibility in her favour.

"There was further bad feeling over the governing governor's plans for the prison to be privatized and Jim Fenner had planned to steal my job as my humanitarian values wouldn't be welcome in a prison run for private profit. The final argument was when it came to my attention that he had sexually harassed a young, emotionally vulnerable prisoner. It was at that point that I started preparing a file to go to the prison service area management."

"Can you tell the court what happened on the day before the crime in question, Karen?"

"In what way?" Karen asked, temporarily confused and worrying that a mass of irrelevant detail would cloud what she had to say. She could go on all day about Larkhall and that's what she had feared in giving evidence. She didn't want what she had to say coming over as a hopeless clutter.

"I mean in relation to your file and associated witnesses and your experiences with James Fenner."

"I remember the order of events in this way. Firstly, I talked to the prisoner concerned, reasoned with her to sign a statement, got her a weekend home leave with her parents so she would be out of harm's way. I then attached a statement from a prison officer and finally took it to Neil Grayling, the governing governor. He was distinctly evasive about the matter and I got the feeling he was back pedalling on the whole thing."

"What gave you the idea that you weren't being supported?"

"As far as I remember he said that 'we'll see about this. He needed to get a report together and he said he'd come back to me.' When I protested that 'every minute that Jim Fenner was there, it meant another woman was in danger,' his answer was that 'he couldn't send a pile of statements willy nilly.' He asked me to 'hang fire' whatever that meant."

The jury immediately grasped the kind of management speak that they'd heard in their lives. John smiled cynically as this was the kind of specious verbiage that Sir Ian and Lawrence James were wont to come out with. Brian Cantwell was only too aware how rapidly George was gaining ground and he scribbled notes for him to pick up on when it came to his turn.

"Did Mr. Fenner speak to you that day, Ms Betts?" George asked gently.

"Didn't he just. Somehow word got back to him. I was in my office, and he burst in an hour or so after I saw Neil Grayling. His very charming open words were, as far as I remember 'What are you up to, you conniving bitch- secret meetings-you're at it big time' I told him that 'he couldn't get away with all the years of lying, abuse, rape.' The last word really set him off at the deep end after what happened to me as he told me not to 'prick him about.' I told him 'I'd got it all, photos, statements, the lot.' He told me that 'he'd bloody well kill me.' Things got very nasty at that moment as he grabbed hold of me. I shook him off and told him that 'his balls were going on my mantelpiece. I'll put everything in a big fat file for area.' After that, I told him to get out of my office. He seemed to freeze and walked out of my office. I went into the prison officer's room- he wasn't there at the time- and told everyone there that I was working at home and it was important paperwork for area."

"Was it possible that Mr. Fenner found out what you were doing and why?"

"Perfectly possible. I'm not sure if I told him where I was going but he could easily have found out my whereabouts from his direct subordinate, Mrs Sylvia Hollamby. They were as thick as thieves and he would have reason to keep her informed anyway in the normal course of events."

Karen's throat was turning dry and she motioned for a glass of water. Her hands were slightly trembling which was most unusual for her. What amazed her was how her overloaded mind somehow pulled all these buried details out of her memory bank**.**

"Can you relate for the benefit of the jury the file you set up?"

"My lord, can the jury be spared this interminable details of the defendant's life?" Brian Cantwell challenged in an exaggeratedly bored tone of voice.

"I would be interested to see just where this line of questioning is headed, Ms Channing," John Deed questioned.

"If it please you, my lord, I shall endeavour to show that my client's movements on the night in question had nothing to do with this terrible death and everything to do with preparing this file," George reasoned patiently.

"I'll allow the line of questioning. It is material to the case. Carry on, Ms Betts."

"Okay. I put together a copy of my original rape allegation, the statement by a prison officer, incriminating photos together with the prisoner's statement. I wrote a long covering letter as a comprehensive explanation of where everything fitted in."

"Finally, can you tell the court what you did that evening and the following morning up till you were arrested?"

"That's pretty simple. I spread all the evidence on my living room table and studied it in depth. I tried to consider how an independent mind, removed from the day-to-day activity would look at it. I broke off to cook myself a meal while I turned everything over in my mind. Finally, I wrote out a lengthy report, explaining how the pieces of the jigsaw fitted together and especially covering my experience of Jim Fenner. When I'd completed it, I helped myself to a drink from a bottle of whisky on the sideboard, lay back in my chair and finally had a long shower to take away the aches and pains of the day. After that, I had an early night as I planned to go straight to area. I went down to the car park only to find my car stolen. After that, I phoned the police and gave them full details of the theft, took a taxi to area to personally gave the file to internal post team, and then went back in it to Larkhall. I naturally assumed that when the police turned up, they were wanting to get more details about the car- until I found out differently."

"What happened to your car keys?" John intervened. George sighed to herself. That was the next question she intended to ask but she supposed that John could only be well behaved for so long.

"As far as I remember, I left them on the living room table. My priority was to get the file put together." "Were they in the same place the next morning?" "I can't remember them being there. My first thought was that I must have put them down somewhere else or temporarily mislaid them." "A likely story," snorted Brian Cantwell conspicuously under her breath so that Karen hurried on to cover that obvious point. "My first thought was to drive off to area and deliver my file and do the one thing that would stop vulnerable prisoners being sexually abused by Jim Fenner. I knew where the spare keys were. They had the spare security card together so that I could get into the car park, which was under the block of flats. I grabbed them and found that my car was gone. That's when I called for a taxi."

"Finally, Karen, can you explain for the benefit of the jury why you feel you couldn't possibly have caused the accident," George asked, finally squeezing her way back into her cross examination.

"I spent too many Friday nights and Saturday nights as a nurse on accident and emergency nursing far too many broken bodies who came in after far too many car accidents due to drunk driving to ever risk doing that myself. I've comforted far too many grieving mothers, fathers, husbands and wives in my time. Memories like that stay with you to the rest of your life. I simply wouldn't do it."

George was mentally soaring at Karen's heartfelt words. It couldn't make her case clearer as the scowl on Brian Cantwell's face testified to that. She only hoped that Karen would be strong enough to stand up against the cross**-**examination that would fall on her.


	35. Chapter 35

**Scene Thirty-Five**Brian Cantwell tried to look benign as he rose to his feet but Karen wasn't fooled by appearances. Now that she had come to see through Fenner, she had developed a sharp eye for anyone who was trying to pull the wool over her eyes. Her manner was controlled and cautious."You mentioned that you've brought up a son on your own? You're divorced from your husband or were you ever married?" "Yes, I'm divorced from my husband a long time ago, Dennis Betts. I met him when I was in the WRAF." "Have you had many partners since then." "A few. I seem to be unlucky in matters of the heart." "How can that be, an obviously attractive woman such as yourself."

"I have had this unfortunate tendency to be attracted to men who, to put it politely, are plausible villains. I seem to want to be charmed by them and an ordinary kind-hearted man doesn't do it for me. A fellow prison officer, Mark Waddle tried to comfort me after I was raped by Jim Fenner but he went about it the wrong way."

"You said that you went round to Mr. Fenner's bedsit. So where did this alleged rape, take place?"

Karen turned pale, as there were sharp, steel teeth both in the question and the way it was phrased. Brian Cantwell's eyes glittered as he sensed what he thought was the truth.

"In …the bed. I was confused. I'd fallen out with Jim Fenner some time before and I started to go out with another prison officer, Mark Waddle. The trouble was that I hadn't got him out of my system**, **though I didn't know it. I still felt attracted to Jim Fenner. He kept plying me with drinks as we talked about his troubles. We kissed but when he wanted to go further, I didn't want to know. He held me down and raped me."

Brian Cantwell looked visibly smug as he sensed that he'd got the witness on the run as a shocked silence fell upon the courtroom. Karen's embarrassment was acute and she didn't know where to place himself. She felt horribly exposed. George went through the whole gamut of emotions, of sympathy for her client, acute awareness that she'd torn huge rents out of her credibility and anger at herself at her well-meaning delicacy to skim over this area of Karen's past life.

"You were confused, right. So were your memories equally confused about killing the unfortunate man while driving the car under the influence of drink and not being able to face what you'd done, even to yourself? Perhaps you are not so much a liar as I first thought but simply self delusional."

"No, that's not true. Whatever I am, I am not a liar. Recklessly driving a car while drunk goes against my basic instincts as a nurse."

Karen threw that retort back in Brian Cantwell's face with enough force to make him blink. After yelling his accusations at Karen one moment, he paused and changed gear to speak in his most soothing tones.

"I can see that you have had a hard life. It hasn't given you much chance to relax, has it?""I don't know. What doesn't get to you only makes you stronger. I finally got clear of Fenner, emotionally speaking and fought him all the way in his plans to abuse his position. I was once held hostage by a crazed HIV positive woman, holding a syringe to my neck filled with her own blood. I came through that well enough. I've had to learn to be strong as I've had no other choice."

Brian Cantwell hid his irritation that the defendant came back at him so strongly while he pursued his next gambit.

"So all that stress must cause you to unwind after a day's work with a glass or three every night?"

"Objection," George chimed in at last." If this isn't a leading question, I don't know what is. Yoga is a recognized form of relaxation for instance," George said scornfully.

"I agree, Ms Channing. You should know better, Mr. Cantwell."

"I apologise, my lord. Let me rephrase my question. Do you drink in the evening much?"

"Certainly not to excess and not at all if I know I have to drive my car," Karen replied carefully, silently blessing George for the way her last aside had lightened the mood.

"Mention has been made in the trial of the bottle of whisky that was found in the car and that you testified to drinking when you were supposedly staying in preparing this file of yours. Care to comment on the fact that tests show that it had your fingerprints and no one else's on it?"

"Since I'd been having a drink most nights from it over a period of time, it's hardly surprising my fingerprints on it. I haven't a clue how it ended up in the car any more than the way my car ended up abandoned."

"How did you react to being forced to resign from your job?"

"In a word, bloody furious. I was made the scapegoat for a prisoner's suicide, a woman who caused mayhem on the wing and who's final act was to plant a personally defamatory note. It was also payback time for my opposition to the privatization plan that Mr. Grayling, the Governing Governor was so keen to promote."

"How do you react to three people who clearly identified you as the driver of your own car who killed Gerald Baker?"

"What can I say? All I can do is to stand by the truth. I didn't drive the car. I had far more important business to do in preparing my file for area."

"Isn't the truth that you have a persecution complex especially as there is no evidence of the file at area office? I put it to you that this is, after all, the main plank of your defence."

"I am saying it again and again. I personally took the file to area and put it in their internal mail. That file existed."

" If your concerns were as serious as you say they are, why not rely on your immediate senior officer, Neil Grayling? After all, that is the way things are supposed to operate."

"In a normal prison, I agree but Larkhall is no normal prison, it's a nightmare. In normal circumstances, everything is on file. There's an official system and God knows I've worked long enough in them, first as a nurse and then as a prison officer. That's fine so long as those in charge are honest. How do you prove a conspiracy when the custodians of power are embroiled in it?"

Karen fired back her last retort with the last remaining strength left in her mind and her body. Fortunately, this was the last shot in Brian Cantwell's now empty locker. This witness had come back stronger than he had expected after threatening to go to pieces. It struck him that, when pressed on her official work, she became stronger and came back fighting. Her last words hung on the air and made a strong impact, much to George's satisfaction.

"Do you wish to reexamine the witness, Ms Channing?" John intoned. George frowned at his studiously correct form of address to her. It summed up everything in John's underlying difficulty in getting a handle on her, no matter how sincere his outward reassurances. In a second, the feeling of irritation passed. There was one important point she wanted to get at. Karen's complicated relationship with Fenner had been gradually unveiled but one important question needed answering.

"If I get it right, Ms Betts, you have had something of an on-off relationship with Mr. Fenner before it finally broke up. This is, of course, something any member of a jury might have come across as not unusual in matters of the heart. What I would be interested to know was what first caused you to split up from him?"

Karen gathered a deep breath and her thoughts became crystal clear. She ran her tongue along her lower lip to moisten it, as if to ready her mouth for the words she was going to speak.

"It was the combination of finding definite proof that he'd been carrying on an affair with an inmate at the same time as having proposed marriage to me. That showed the two sides of Jim Fenner clear enough. I had been previously left a file by the former acting governing governor Helen Stewart on her resignation from her job alleging that he had sexually assaulted her. Fool that I was, I had been persuaded that Helen had made it up, that she was pursuing a vendetta against him, something that had some credibility, as I knew they hated each other's guts. That was why I finally set up the file on him to go to area. "

Brian Cantwell scowled in anger and glared at John Wade. Once again, he had been let down by the skimped research. He was starting to hate Jim Fenner as a snake in the grass, someone who was incapable of telling the truth, even to the bloody solicitor that was supposedly on his side. He really wasn't sure how the ups and down of the trial was going right now. For his part, John Wade stood ramrod straight in the dock. He wasn't expected to be a mind reader for God's sake. It wasn't his fault. Claire Walker had followed the trial with intense interest as the ups and downs of the trial had proceeded. Objectively speaking, she wasn't going to lay any money on the result but the other quietly passionate side of her personality had faith.

"Court is adjourned till tomorrow," John intoned. He had been looking at the clock as Karen's testimony had run on and on and, even though the clock had run on half an hour later than normal finishing time for court hearings, he wouldn't have adjourned the hearing seven eights of the way through and recalled the defendant. He hoped the court officials would ultimately understand even while they had started to shuffle their papers restlessly. "You may step down from the dock, Ms Betts," he added in a kindly tone as he could see that the woman was fit to drop after such a gruelling cross-examination.

Karen stumbled out of the courtroom with legs made of jelly and more or less collapsed into a pair of soft arms, which embraced her and held her up. It was only when the other woman moved back when she realized that they belonged to Helen Stewart. Standing beside her was Nikki, concern written all over her features.

"Had a rough time of it, Karen?" Nikki asked lightly.

"You can say that again," the tall blond haired woman said with deep feeling." I felt that I've gone through a wringer."

"Karen, you did very well," exclaimed the familiar aristocratic tones behind them, radiating kindness and compassion. "You've gone through the worst of it. It's our turn now."

"It's very strange, George, but I've spoken in court like Karen has in the course of my job but I haven't been personally involved as a witness," Helen said with a touch of nervousness.

"You'll do fine Helen. Just don't let the bastards grind you down. I've told you that once before," Nikki quietly advised the smaller woman.

The two women smiled, as this was a secret code between the two of them that contained the best possible advice in dealing with adversity. The two other women could relate to the spoken words easily enough.

"Have you got any plans tonight," Helen asked.

"Plans?" echoed Karen." Right now everything seems planned for me, like getting up and appearing in court."

"So we've got another plan. Why don't you unwind at our flat?"

Karen smiled broadly. It sounded like heaven to her. One more night at her lonely flat was a step up or two from facing court.

"That sounds fine to me. It would be a pleasure."

George smiled at Nikki and Helen. It sounded like the best therapy she could imagine. Reluctantly, she had to make her own exit.

"I must fly. I've got to prepare for the next day."

As George clattered in her high heels towards the exit, the three other women waved her farewell. Behind all of them, John looked on at the scene. It was the first time he had seen George with a group of women as he had known her more to be **'**Queen Bee**'**surrounded by admiring men, yet somehow untouchable. He really couldn't analyse the depths of his thoughts yet somehow, he knew that at least three of them were all on the side of the good. They had warm feelings for each other on that level. That should be good enough for him and shouldn't interfere with his friendship with all of them.


	36. Chapter 36

**Scene Thirty-Six**

Early in the morning, Alice looked over tenderly and protectively at George, who lay flat on her back curled up alongside her. She understood very well how George threw herself into every trial. With eager determination George stayed up till late, bent over the dining room table, surrounded by a sheaf of papers and muttering to herself.

Alice could relate to it as she had similar decisions to make in supporting families and judging risks. Everything was in each of their hands to make or mar. She knew that there was nothing George appreciated than the reassuring hand laid over her shoulder, the tangible proof that there was someone close who cared. Right then, she stared at that delicately curved nose, carved cheekbones and loved the feel of her hand resting on her lover's stomach. She knew that, right in the middle of the case, there was some snatched moment in her lunch break when the blond haired woman's spirit went out to her and she returned that visitation. Alice looked at the wardrobe where her lover's crisp blue suit was hung up, ready for her to climb into her barrister mode of existence. Their lives were complete.

In a curious instance of life's near parallels, it took till now for Karen to fully realize how tenuous her tangible support had been, regardless of those dear friends who she knew were unselfishly batting for her. In court, the only friendly souls around had been George and Claire but they were subject to the constraints of courtroom etiquette and couldn't spring to her defence when she was defamed by the series of witnesses who trooped through the witness box and directly attacked by that dangerously sharp-witted barrister. She had coped as best as she could the way she had ultimately coped, depending on herself. Wednesday morning was a totally different experience for Karen as Nikki and Helen accompanied her. Last night had been a revelation to her as she relaxed back in a soft armchair that embraced her and took her weight off her. Everything about the flat was homelike and unpretentious, full of warm and vibrant colours. It made her old flat feel cold and clinical by contrast. Her immediate impression was of bookcases, full of well-thumbed paperbacks, a collection of very well chosen DVDs and of decorative pictures. Karen fell in love with it at once and was soon chattering happily to the other two women. By unspoken consent, they avoided talking about the trial. Helen had a vague idea that she shouldn't know about what had been said in court on the previous days. Everything felt quite natural and it came home to Karen what an empty and solitary life she had been leading. She knew she had to get back home for a change of clothes for the next day, but she wasn't hurrying for the taxi nor was she in a rush to go outside into the cold and dark.

Automatically, Karen gave each woman a quick hug and peck on the cheek when they came into view the next day, in the echoing hurly burly of the foyer. Karen found a side room for them all to chat, which filled up the time before Karen and Helen would set forth into the theatre of the court of law. Presently, the usher gave them the nod that their presence was required, while Nikki remained, a paperback in hand with a doubtful power of detachment to read it.

******

As Helen followed Karen into the courtroom, she started to become a little nervous. It struck her for the first time how she had always had authority on her side, whether as a fast stream prison officer, wing governor, home office employee, acting governing governor or her present executive job. Her two brief spells without a job hadn't removed her long enough from institutional life to really make a mark. Of course, this hadn't stopped her identifying herself passionately and kind-heartedly with those over whom she had power. This was the first time she would be actively engaged in an institution as some form of supplicant as opposed to being an observer. What worried her was that there was a lot that she knew but might not necessarily be able to substantiate. She had an overriding duty not to stumble.

The courtroom started to fill up as Karen returned to the dock once again, while Helen nervously let herself be led to the witness stand. She glanced over to George and Claire and reached for the bible and card, containing the oath to be sworn. It reminded her in a peculiar fashion of the chill formality of her father's church except that John Deed, far above her, gave the proceedings both colour and resonance. Dry mouthed, she readied herself to be in question answering mode of thinking.

George wasted no time in establishing Helen's name, present and past occupations and that she lived with her partner Nikki Wade before coming to the crux of the matter. Suddenly, everything adjusted itself to sharp focus.

"Miss Stewart, can you explain for the benefit of the court, the nature of your relationships with the defendant and James Fenner."

"Objection," called out Brian Cantwell in peremptory tones." I can understand that the witness may be called as character witness for the defendant but surely not in relation to Mr. Fenner, another witness. This is the case of my learned council trying to have her cake and eat it."

"Isn't it just," murmured George to herself in a self-satisfied aside under her breath before launching into her argument. "May it please, my lord, I am seeking to establish that Mr. Fenner is intimately involved in the run up to the crime in question as an integral part of the defence case. My witness has the advantage of knowing both him and my client."

"I'll allow that but do not stray too far from the point, Ms Channing," John pronounced confidently enough. His earlier worries about appearing in front of George had been laid to rest. Besides, he was intensely curious to hear Fenner as described through Helen's eyes.

"I distrusted and disliked Jim Fenner from the word go and the feeling was mutual. He resented the fact that I was young, female and his boss. I was a stickler for doing things by the book and I cared about the prisoners. He consistently conspired behind my back to undermine my position. I have clear knowledge of one prisoner in his care who he physically assaulted."

"Objection, My Lord," Brian Cantwell intervened in his most languid, self- assured tone of voice. "The witness is clearly introducing hearsay prejudicial evidence which she can have no personal knowledge of. I demand that this be stricken from the record."

"I think that I need to investigate just what is firsthand and what isn't," John pronounced firmly, knowing just how astute Helen was. "Miss Stewart, it is incumbent on you that you substantiate these allegations with direct observations."

"Okay," Helen said as she collected her wits. "I was in my office when Karen Betts brought in Shell Dockley whose face was bruised and bloodstained. She told me that Jim Fenner had beaten her up. Together with Mr. Stubberfield, I interviewed him about his side of the story and he said that she'd gone berserk and started knocking her head against the floor….."A burst of laughter briefly broke out from the jury till John called out for silence.

"I'll admit this evidence," said John firmly. "Pray continue, Miss Stewart."

"I pushed for his suspension over the assault and resigned from my job when the governing governor wanted to do a whitewash job, in temporarily suspending him until 'some sort of enquiry' resulted in Mr. Fenner being reinstated in his job. When I came back to Larkhall, first as home office employee and then acting governing governor, there was constant verbal warfare between us, ending up in one incident when he sexually assaulted me. I finally saw the back of him when I resigned from my job."

Helen's steely tone of voice and the bombshell she dropped grabbed the attention of the entire court**.** John's eyes closed briefly in shock and horror. Karen thought ruefully if only she had stuck to her original perceptions, so much trouble would have been avoided.

"You are frank indeed, Miss Stewart. Using my privilege as judge to play devil's advocate, couldn't it be argued that you have let your personal feelings get in the way of being objective about him?" John pursued.

George rolled her eyes skywards, but wasn't greatly surprised at John's inquisitiveness.

"That's a good question, judge," Helen answered in slow, considered tones, momentarily taken aback by the one question she had never put to herself. "I can't ever accuse him of being incompetent. My problem was that I had good reason to fundamentally distrust him. He always had a personal agenda behind any reasonable sounding suggestion. He was the sort of person who'd try to get into your head and take it over if he could. Above all else, I learnt the hard way not to underestimate his deviousness."

Helen felt as if electric energy was coursing through her. Especially at the end of her time at Larkhall, she had been denied her version of reality except for odd isolated moments. She now realized that she was giving public evidence for herself as much as for Karen and that energized her. It boosted Karen's spirits that thank God someone who knew her was speaking up for her. While Brian Cantwell saw her as a dangerous adversary, John Deed smiled benignly down on the court in general**.**

"So where does the defendant fit into the picture? Did you know Mr. Fenner first or the defendant?" asked George, very quickly.

"I worked with Jim Fenner for some months before taking sick leave. I met Karen when I came back to work."

"So how did you get on with the defendant while you worked at Larkhall prison?"

"I only knew her briefly before I resigned from my job but she struck me immediately as a caring, conscientious intelligent officer with the interests of both prison officers and prisoners alike at her heart."

"How can you be so certain, Miss Stewart?"

"She brought in Shell Dockley to see me after being assaulted as I described earlier on. When I returned to Larkhall, she had taken over my old job and I was doing a research project with the Home office and, a little later, started up a self**-**improvement course for 'lifers' and assumed responsibility for them. We had to work closely together and our relationship was harmonious but gradually deteriorated over time."

"Why was that, Miss Stewart?"

"As I was more involved with the running of Larkhall Prison, my conflicts with officer Fenner started up again, Karen got emotionally involved with him. It's difficult to trace any specific events but Karen started to accuse me of persecuting him and becoming less willing to believe what I had to say. I tried to tell her that she was too close to the situation and couldn't see what he was doing. She seemed to think he had the prisoners' interest at heart**, **when his own interest came first and foremost. Finally I lost patience with her and told her I was sick and tired of trying to get through to her. I gave her one last chance on the way out and left her a file detailing Jim Fenner's sexual assault on me."

"Is this going to be a habit of defence witnesses to tell their life story at great length and take up valuable court time?" Brian Cantwell intervened, making an elaborate pretense at a yawn. By contrast, John was personally fascinated to hear Helen's history unfold before his eyes, having only heard snippets before. He had to have regard for the court hearing as a whole, however, and Brian Cantwell had a point.

"Perhaps. Ms Channing, you could turn to the events of the night in question," John advised quietly.

George suppressed her annoyance at being cut short, as she was aware that her examination was in danger of losing pace and also losing the jury's attention. She decided that what was left out would have to be picked up at the end.

"Can you turn to the events of the night and describe what you saw of the accident?" George asked.

"Nikki and I had gone out for a meal that night to a restaurant where we hadn't been before. A workmate of Nikki's had suggested it. When we set off for home, we got off the beaten track and found ourselves in the back of beyond. I was driving the car and when we came up to a T-junction, I was about to pull out in front of a car on the main road, as there was time to spare. The other could have clearly seen me getting ready to move out, but it deliberately accelerated and cut right in front of me. I had to jam on the brakes. I turned the corner and headed off in pursuit."

"Why did you follow the car, Miss Stewart? I mean why bother?" cut in George quietly.

"Good point. I could hear the car making a dickens of a racket and I was mad as hell. I was in 'citizen's arrest' mode of thinking. A few seconds later, I recognized the car as Karen Betts. It was a very distinctive green MG sports car and I recognized the number plates as well."

"Just backtrack one moment, Miss Stewart. Did you catch a glimpse of the driver as it passed across you?" George interjected.

"To be honest, I didn't. I was more preoccupied in stopping my car in time. Anyway, I had an additional reason for chasing after the car. The reckless way it was driven was so alien to the owner, the careful, responsible woman I had known. It disturbed me and I wanted to get to the bottom of this. We headed off in pursuit and the driver behaved like a maniac, swerving all over the place, tyres screeching. It was as if the driver wanted to get noticed."

"Have you any experience of Karen's driving, Miss Stewart?"

"I've only had the limited experience of her driving into the back of my car in a line of traffic. That was a 'one off' case of a lapse of concentration. She told me as a kind of explanation that she'd just been demoted to make place for Jim Fenner and she really wasn't at her best. This was a different league stuff…..anyway; we finally followed the car several miles into the main street and finally got close to the car. It had the chance of swinging clear past the pedestrian but it chose to drift over to the left straight at the poor man who was killed. We pulled up and did our best to assist while waiting for the police. I think that says everything."

"This is most important, what visual impressions did you get of the driver? Take your time and think carefully," said George quietly.

Helen ran her tongue along the width of her lower lip, paused for breath as her throat was dry and finally spoke her mental deliberation.

"I could see a long, slightly curly mop of long fair hair and a overcoat of some dark colour. My problem was that I never saw her**,** either head on or sideways on."

"One final question, and that is why have you wanted to give evidence on Karen Betts' behalf when your relationship with her has been so fraught?"

"Mainly to see justice done. She used to infuriate me because of her preferential attitude of Jim Fenner and seeming to willfully not see what was under her very nose. As time passed after leaving Larkhall, I decided I'd been lucky in seeing the nasty side of the man. I burnt out the last of my anger at her when we talked shortly after the accident and realized that she was just another one of Fenner's victims. I never really lost my respect for her and realized that I could like her now she was clear of him."

As her last words died away, Karen was fighting to keep the tears out of her eyes. Everything that this feisty Scot had said was so true and fair. It also painted a picture that was the unvarnished, unembellished truth, warts and all. It was what Helen did with the truth, her capacity for forgiveness that moved Karen deeply. The smaller woman was seen through misted vision as she reached for a glass of water at her side.

Helen's pulse started racing as she realized that, up till know, she had been asked sympathetic questions designed to draw out her side of the story. She would now face the full blast of hostile cross-examination and this hard man with a shiny suit wouldn't give her an inch. She would need her wits about her. She just hoped she wasn't too out of practice.


	37. Chapter 37

**Scene Thirty-Seven**

Brian Cantwell wasted no time in eliciting from Helen details of her personal circumstances, which she detailed crisply and promptly.

"Ms Stewart," he asked making the buzzing sound of her title sound like a subtle put down of feminism, "Has it occurred to you that you might have a problem, as a lesbian, in relating to men?"

"That's laughable," Helen retorted a wide grin splitting her face in two." I used to be a straight woman, always getting near the altar, never committing myself to get married. It was only when I met Nikki Wade that I fell in love with a woman for the first time. I am on good terms with men I work with, with friends outside work."

Brian Cantwell was visibly unprepared for this retort. John Wade had picked up on Fenner's venomous denunciations of this witness and his mental picture of the typical caricature lesbian had been passed on to him. He saw that he had miscalculated so he shifted his point of attack.

"Was it proper that you, as a supposedly, rule respecting wing governor of a prison fell in love with a female prisoner while being her jailor?""Not at all proper. It is the sole blot on my record and, in my defence, I never used it for personal advantage and neither did Nikki. It isn't something I did lightly and it took a lot of soul searching to enter into such a relationship." "I bet you did. I suppose you fell into each others arms, proclaiming undying love for each other and let your professional obligations go hang," Brian Cantwell cut back with acid sarcasm."No, Mr. Cantwell," Helen shot back passionately with glowing eyes," Nikki proved herself the truest and most loyal friend that I've ever had in my entire life. While I threatened to stumble and fall as the 'Old Boys' network sought to sabotage my attempts to treat prisoners decently, Nikki stopped me from going over the edge. By contrast, my fiancée was full of bland well-meaning nothings. That's what really makes for true love. For all that, I had an enormous battle between what I saw as my duty and my feelings of love for Nikki." "But the fact remains that your attitude to Nikki Wade, a prisoner, was unprofessional or at least, had an unprofessional element about it," Brian Cantwell retorted, stacking up his logic with deadly precision. "Yeah," Helen said slowly," I can't deny that last option." This took the wind out of the barrister's sails. He realized that Helen's transparent honesty was making a strong favourable impression on the jury. She had neatly avoided the trap of being shifty and evasive. Beneath his impassive exterior, John was totally inspired by Helen's passionate sincerity and he couldn't help but think that if George felt the same way about Alice, then she had a point. In turn, George was bowled over by Helen's fierce defence of herself. She cut the air with bold simple word shapes.

"You really didn't like Mr. Fenner, did you? One could say that there was a personal motive in your criticisms of him."

"I remember finding out how he fixed the random drugs tests of inmates to target drugs free prisoners and fiddle the figures. That says everything about the man – and the way he justified it by saying other prisons do the same. That was par for the course with Jim Fenner," came Helen's derisive reply.

While Brian Cantwell scowled, John Deed was in severe danger of laughing out loud at how Helen's outrageous honesty so vividly echoed his own experiences. His kinship with both women shone all the brighter at moments like this.

"In which case, how can you explain, as resident psychiatrist, how the defendant is unable to see through such transparent manoeuvrings? In making such scathing remarks against Mr. Fenner, your thesis is undone by the defendant's supposed character and therefore the credibility of your arguments."

Helen had to hand it to the man how he came back like lightning after she had so discomforted him. She had to repay him in kind.

"I really wish I knew the answer to your very valid question. Karen is an intelligent woman, one who came up through the ranks, took a part time degree course and yet had that one blind spot for Jim Fenner. It sounds like a contradiction but I would have thought that it's up to the jury to decide that on their experience of real life that such people do exist."

"Miss Stewart, grateful as I am for your contribution, I must say that you are in danger of stealing my thunder in giving directions to the jury." Judge Deeds interjected.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," Helen started to say; her hand in front of her mouth while John smilingly waved aside her apology. George was grinning broadly at the tables being turned so neatly on John. It was about time it happened to him. Brian Cantwell shook his head in irritation at the way this woman blew a hole through one of his logical masterstrokes. He decided to cut to the chase.

"Let's come to the night of the crime in question. You have consistently stated that the defendant wasn't driving her own car. What makes you think that the driver wasn't the accused? You have given evidence to positively identify the car as belonging to the accused. You have even given evidence that she ran into the back of your car. You are saying that the driver had long fair hair. Other witnesses have positively identified her so why don't you?"

"I maintain that the driver looked like Karen but, to repeat myself, I'm not prepared to swear that it was Karen behind the wheel," retorted Helen fiercely, the light of battle in her eyes."

"Is it the case that you have a history of friendship with the accused and don't want to incriminate her? It's all very laudable but the court is here to establish the truth, not pander to sentiment."

"You've tried to say that my hostile testimony against Fenner is personal prejudice as opposed to my relationship with Karen. I am stating that, yes, I started out being friends with Karen but we gradually fell out over her siding with Jim Fenner**, **yet I'm now being biased in the defendant's favour. You can't have it both ways, Mr. Cantwell," Helen riposted with that final parry, getting through the barrister's guard.

The man turned red in the face and stopped dead in the tracks. It annoyed him intensely that this verbal rapier thrust had got through his guard and he had no counter to it.

"Have you any questions to ask, Ms Channing?"

"I could not possibly improve on Helen's observations," George replied with that satisfied tone in her voice. Her total admiration for the woman prompted that lapse in court etiquette. The smaller woman couldn't believe it when she was permitted to leave the dock. Everything was going round in her head and her first thought was that she wanted some fresh air outside with Nikki.

********

Blind instinct made Karen, Nikki and Helen adjourn to the pub across the road from the Old Bailey, which was large and capacious. Nikki reached out for her packet of cigarettes and offered it to Karen while Helen brought in the drinks. So long as the jukebox enfolded them with music that wouldn't jar on their nerves, then no spaces were left open for Helen's dormant worries at watching Nikki take the stand.

Karen at last had the company that she knew that she craved and Nikki blindly reached for the conviviality to sharpen up her mind to cross swords with the opposing barrister. Sharp as a razor, Helen warned her. She kept it in mind that she worked for the Howard League for Penal Reform and even more so than normal, can look anyone in the eye.

********

With a feeling of unreality, Nikki was sworn in, realizing vaguely that she wasn't testifying for her own life but someone else's. George swiftly took her through the preliminary introductions, her personal background until the real questioning started.

"Ms Wade, it would help if you could explain your background as a prisoner at Larkhall. It isn't common for a jury to hear such evidence, not to say barristers and judges," George asked in clear tones. With a sudden mental blink, Nikki realized for the first time that she was dealing with the professional Ms Channing, QC rather than George, Alice's partner, that she was so used to.

"Okay, losing your liberty is where it starts. I know this both personally and professionally. I don't know if any of you in the jury have been at school where the teacher is trying to put you down, no matter how hard you're trying because your face doesn't fit. Prison's a hundred times worse than that. I hadn't accepted the guilt of taking out the policeman who would have most certainly raped by then girlfriend if I hadn't been around. On top of that, all the nasty tabloids assassinated my character. I finally ended up in Larkhall Prison, a version of a corrupt banana republic, one where standing up for basic rights, questioning authority landed me many times being shoved down in a segregation block, trussed up in clothing called 'strips' so I could hardly move. Fenner was at the back of directly discriminating against me and favouring another prisoner who was effectively his prostitute. She was just another one of his women on the inside and he went home to his wife and kids. That's Fenner in a nutshell. I ran up against him as I have this very traditional English belief of not abiding favouritism. Then Helen Stewart came along and treated me justly. She put me onto an Open University degree course, which I completed and got my release on appeal and later complete exoneration. I updated my office skills in an ordinary job and secured a research job with the Howard League for Penal Reform. In a more systematic, research based form I'm doing again what I did as an ordinary prisoner. My work reminds me constantly of injustice. Having been a witness to a senselessly cruel murder really brought it home to me that Fenner thinks he can get away with anything, in the past at Larkhall and now, and, for me, that's what the present case is all about."

Nikki's slow, fluent, well-paced delivery pushed George's list of questions along by leaps and bounds and she mentally crossed through some as senseless repetition.

To George's great satisfaction, Nikki then chatted away about her perception of the hit and run murder in a conversational yet lucid style as if her profession was giving evidence in court. She hardly needed any prompting to keep her narration on track. There were really no loose ends, George marvelled as part of her mind detached herself to try and figure out just how Brian Cantwell might try to attack the testimony.

*******

"Seeing as you have been most forthcoming about everyone else's background, you can't object if I ask you a few questions about your own background. You don't mind if one or two of them are personal," Brian Cantwell asked in smooth tones, which loudly rang danger bells inside Nikki's head. Instinct told him how much of a trickster this man was.

"Go ahead."

"Your partner, Helen Stewart has given very touching evidence as to how she fell in love with a woman for the first time in her life. Was being a lesbian a new experience for you as well?"

"No. I came out, that is publicly acknowledged my sexuality when I was thirteen, fourteen, at boarding school. Men have never been my flavour," Nikki said politely, George made an approving mental note of Nikki's flexibility in rapidly translating for the benefit of a straight jury.

"So you are an experienced lesbian, aren't you," Brian Cantwell said with the air of finding out an important fact.

"Yeah, in the same way that you are an experienced heterosexual, at least I assume you are," came Nikki's cool reply to Helen's very visible delight from the gallery and a snigger from the jury.

"So would it be true to say that you've spent all your life around women and that men are strange to you, in how they think, in how you interpret their behaviour?" Brian Cantwell retorted insistently, eager to push his point of view home.

"There have been variations. After I left home, I had to make it as a barmaid, any job that paid the rent so female separatism was a luxury I couldn't afford. I've had male friends, even early on in life. When I was running a lesbian club with Trisha Williams, my then partner, I must admit that my life revolved almost exclusively round lesbians, as friends and lovers. In my time in Larkhall, I was with both straight and gay women and male and female prison officers. I hated Fenner not because I had a weird attitude to men but because he was, well, a bastard. After Helen came on the scene, she revived my faith in human nature**…** I got to be pretty friendly with Dominic McAllister a decent guy, great prison officer. Since I got my freedom, I have increasingly gained quite a number of male friends. There's Tony Foster who I worked with in my first job, my present boss Paul Williams who's a really great guy, very fair with as much real understanding as any woman I've ever known. There's Claire Walker's husband Peter with who I socialize with a lot. There's ……."

"Quite," Brian Cantwell cut in coldly, furious how this woman's blandly reasonable manner was going down so well. There was a faint smirk on her face and her eyelashes were lowered as she avoided John's studiously interested gaze. Her brother John Wade looked coldly into the distant horizon while his infuriating sister tied this barrister up in knots. Claire Walker smiled approvingly at this mildly formidable woman whose demeanour was cool, unruffled.

"You sound all very innocent but isn't the truth is that you are studiously avoiding, that you sought to ensnare a serving member of the prison service for your own ends. For the benefit of the court, it would be interesting how you came to live with your partner, Helen Stewart? It casts doubt on her own professionalism, as she was forced to admit."

Nikki was momentarily startled at what Helen had said in court but she trusted to her instinct to play a straight bat when in an awkward situation.

"I never expected to fall in love with a woman while being banged up, least of all a prison officer, a screw as they are known. All I did was to follow the instincts of my heart. I have been retrospectively judged to be totally innocent. Excuse me but I don't see the problem."

"Aren't you guilty of favouritism towards Karen?" snapped the man, starting to lose patience.

"Not especially. I was treated fairly by her and she shook my hand and wished me the best when I left Larkhall. I went my way and I never anticipated her coming back into my life."

"Why can't you admit that if you recognized the car, then it must have been Karen driving her?" Brian Cantwell suddenly shot at her from out of the blue.

"I had a clearer view of Karen's car but I couldn't positively say it was her. What sticks out in my mind are my memories of how careful and correct she was at Larkhall and how the car was being driven in a dangerously out of control fashion. It didn't add up. You have to understand that prison's a funny place. You're locked up twenty hour seven with other prisoners and also with prison officers nearly as much. People in ordinary jobs can hide a side of their personality from each other. That doesn't work in such a goldfish bowl existence like Larkhall. That's why Helen and I can be so definite.**" **

"I have one final question. Did you coach each other in what you were going to say in court? The way your stories fit together so pat, it must be contrived," Brian Cantwell said in suddenly more spiteful tones as he clutched at straws.

"Huh?" Nikki said in tones of utter incomprehension." Whatever Helen said was for real, that's so like her. I was brought up to tell the truth. That is what true intimacy is all about. We can't be blamed if we agree with each other."

Temporarily forgetting herself, Helen started spontaneously clapping at Nikki's splendid finale until one look from John Deed froze her hands. He had a wry smile on his face and Helen's experience told her that he, too, had to cover his private sentiments under an official facade. For the second time in court, Karen permitted herself to smile. At least for the moment, things were starting to look up in her life.


	38. Chapter 38

**Scene Thirty-Eight**Before Tony had met Nikki, he would never have conceived of going anywhere near a court much less giving evidence. As long as he could remember, he had felt that he had been on the outside of life, looking in, always observing others and never having the nerve to even conceive of what he really wanted out of life. He had this fear of taking risks and this had explained why he stuck at his job. He couldn't deceive himself into thinking that it was courage that had kept him in there. He was a loner and felt somehow apart from the human race. No one really knew what went on in his mind, until Nikki came to join his firm.Nikki had made no bones from the very start that she was a lesbian yet somehow they had been thrown together. He was polite and she was friendly. Somehow it was that they were both outsiders in their different ways. The very way she talked and thought made him edge into becoming that little bit bolder. He couldn't see how curious it was that he wouldn't fight to defend himself but he would stick up for her. Tony didn't know why that should be except that somehow, he gained that extra bit of courage that made that level of defiance possible. What he couldn't do was to sustain that level of self-confidence and he dropped back to being that self-effacing man he had always been.

Only his habits of punctuality brought him outside the huge, fortress like building and into the foyer. He was dressed in his smart suit and tie knotted almost painfully tightly. The hurly burly around him made his head swim and he put his hand to his ears. It was only when an echoing voice gradually worked its way through his confusion, when concerned faces swam their way through to his consciousness. There in front of him were Nikki's worried brown eyes. To her right, linking Nikki's hand was a smaller woman with an elegant brown bob, curvaceous figure and that charming smile and glint in her eyes that was larger than life**,** than the long remembered photo by Nikki's workplace.

"I'm sorry for my absent mindedness. You must be Helen. Nikki's told me a lot about you," Tony stammered, automatically shaking the woman's hand. At once, he felt a wave of unaccountable embarrassment come over him as this woman grinned broadly in answer.

"Nikki, you never told me how polite your friend is. Believe me, it's not very common these days."

"That's a compliment, Tony," put in Nikki, very much concerned at his nervousness as she added softly and gently. "This is Karen whose life you are about to save."

At once, Tony became aware of a tall, statuesque woman with blond hair and blue eyes. She came up to him and embraced him with her exotic perfume and overwhelming softness. To his surprise, she seemed impossibly grateful to him as her warm smile started to warm his spirits and made him feel worthwhile.

.

"Tony, I can't say how incredibly grateful I am that you're putting yourself out on my account. Believe me, I can't help but bless my luck that you were there and are kind enough to come forward. Without you and others batting for me, I'm certain to be sent down for ten years. As a one time wing governor, who better placed than me to know, except Helen and Nikki?"

The slight break in Karen's voice and the haunted look in her eyes moved Tony deeply. After all, he had his freedom. He started to feel less on his own.

"Tony, a bit of advice. You'll have a chance to get into your swing as George questions you. When you face the other barrister, remember that he didn't see the car**,** but you did. You have to stick to your version like glue. Above all else, you've got a kindly judge who'll see fair play." Nikki elucidated.

.

With that line up of barricades against being overwhelmed by his fears, Tony walked unsteadily through the court as if his presence were predestined.

********

Looking back on it, Tony could never recall the opening preliminaries as they passed in a blur. He looked over at George and never let his eyes leave her face. He needed that lifeline. She clicked on the screen projector, which threw up an image of the map on the wall. Nervously, he explained his background, how he happened to be in the area, what he saw and why he came forward as a witness. Secretly, George was worried about the progress of her cross-examination. It sounded flat, awkward and lacking in detail. Likewise, Brian Cantwell had marked the witness's timid manner while George gently led him through his evidence. He decided on a direct attack on the witness whose evidence was potentially the most damaging to his case.

"This can be disposed of very quickly. Why have you left it till this late to come forward?"

"Left it late? I don't understand?" stammered Tony. Somehow, he hadn't expected the cross**-**examination to be as fierce and vicious as it was.

"The tabloids have covered the hit and run accident, the Evening Standard has featured it, it has popped up on the six o clock news. So why has it taken till recently to come forward with your mighty convenient story?"

Everything in front of Tony turned blurry except for the sight of this man verbally bearing down on him. His resolution had turned to water and he felt as if he was hyperventilating. His collar and tie was far too tight around his neck as if he was being strangled. Everything that had gone round in his mind was suddenly obliterated. He was unable to see how Karen, George, Claire, Nikki and Helen were silently pleading with him to find the strength to fight back while empathizing with his feelings of helplessness. You can do it if you find the strength within you, they breathed.

"I think the witness needs a glass of water. Could one of the ushers assist him?" John's melodious voice intervened. It cut through the welter of confusion going on in his head and the usher, dressed in her black gown, came up to him and smiled kindly on him. She felt so sorry for the man being bullied by one of those high and mighty barristers, poor man. Nervously, he sipped at the glass of water with one hand while the other firmly grasped the rail. It was the one secure object he could cling to. Gradually, his mind started to clear.

"Are you feeling better, Tony?" George asked in gentle tones. _Please God, let him recover_, she prayed silently to herself.

"Once again, I must ask the witness why he didn't come forward earlier on. A lack of a satisfactory reason inevitably casts doubt on his credibility and tends to the suspicion that he has been 'parachuted in' at the last minute," Brian Cantwell sneered.

It was a fatal mistake. Tony Foster was angered by the suggestion of dishonesty.

"If you're accusing me of lying, I deny it, sir. I live an isolated life and don't watch the news or read the papers. I read books and listen to music a lot of the time. I honestly didn't know there was anything to come forward about till I bumped into Nikki by chance. We got talking and this case came up in conversation and it sparked my memory."

This simple answer caused Brian Cantwell to momentarily recoil. He shifted his point of attack.

"Isn't it strange, for you to be friends with a lesbian?"

"Nikki has always been the best friend I could ever have. I didn't know there was anything wrong with it."

"Aren't you saying this as you have a hopeless infatuation for this 'friend' of yours. Let's face it, you hardly come over as a man of the world?" sneered Brian Cantwell.

"It never occurred to me to be in love with Nikki. She always had a photo on her desk of Helen. She was always talking about her."

"Isn't it totally laughable to common sense to hear this cock and bull yarn about this man putting on a wig?"

"It isn't anything I see every day. In any case, how did I know the car's registration number and make? Let's face it, it isn't a very common experience," Tony pursued in a more confident, even tone of voice, having stopped his voice from trembling. He saw that he was starting to rebuff this bully.

"And you say you were wandering around in the back streets of London trying to find somewhere to eat and, quite by chance, you saw this parked car and this man putting on this wig. Don't you think this was a fantastic coincidence?"

"That's what happened. After all, there was this iceberg just floating around where the Titanic was steaming and it sank the ship. These things happen," Tony flared up indignantly, hands gripping the rail tightly.

The court was stunned into silence. Tony was beginning to worry if he had gone too far. However there were no reproving words, certainly not from his opponent.

"Do you have any questions, Ms Channing?" John enquired at last**.**

"None at all," George said, sounding and looking as pleased as punch. "I think my client's last remark has put it in a nutshell."

***********

Tony stumbled out of court and asked the usher the way to the visitor's gallery. A huge feeling of relief and self-satisfaction was welling up in him. He felt as if he walked taller as he strode up the staircase. He passed by the solitary man who looked as if he were built of stone and was warmed by the beaming smiles from Helen and Nikki.

"Tony, you were terrific. You sit next to me," Nikki said quietly but in heartfelt tones.

As he slid past, first Helen and then Nikki, the murmuring in the courtroom during this intermission fell silent as Shirley Cheetham made her way into the witness stand. This felt like the circles in the local cinema, Tony thought, as he stared down at Karen, standing still in the dock, and all the other players in this act. Right behind them, the human statue that was Sir Ian was making furious mental calculations as to how the case was going.

George readied herself for her last session of questioning. After her closing address, it would be in the lap of the Gods. She was feeling emotionally drained and the quiet consideration of Alice had helped her immeasurably. She really wondered how she had managed before she came into her life.

"Miss Cheetham, can you explain for the benefit of the jury what your profession is."

"I'm a private investigator, not one of those sleaseballs you may have heard of that wears a pair of binoculars in messy divorce cases," Shirley explained in a rapid, confident manner, taking in all the main players in this trial. "I worked in the police force for five years, couldn't stick the closed in minds that couldn't see their backside from their elbow and struck out on my own. I learned my trade and took professional qualifications in forensic science so here I am."

"For the benefit of the jury, can you take us through your investigations and what you have discovered?"

"I'm hired to do a job. That doesn't mean I don't look all ways and that I'm told what conclusion to find. I've got an inquisitive mind and I don't go with the obvious. In Karen Betts' situation, I talked to her at length and started from the possibility that she's telling the truth. It means that if she didn't drive the car, somebody stole it. Karen said that she was in all evening except when she took a shower. It doesn't take rocket science to figure out that if she'd had the lousy day she described to me and I'm sure she described in court, she'd have a long hot soak. Stands to reason, doesn't it. ………,"

Shirley's lazily paced tone of voice suddenly caused the jury to sit up bolt upright in their seats. Amongst the mass of evidence, they vividly recalled that abiding memory of Karen's spectacular bustup with Fenner.

"The really interesting point is that if her flat was broken into, that person knew her and her habits and chanced his arm breaking in. It didn't take a professional burglar, only an average guy, reasonably dexterous, nothing special. I looked for signs of a break in and found it. The evidence shows that the front door was forced- item RB1 in the bundle which I can positively say was done the day of the accident," Shirley inferred. "I also drove along the route taken by the driver at the kind of speeds indicated and I can tell you that the driver must have been a total nutter, especially the sharp right hand turn and sharp right hand turn onto the main drag. Then again, the road where the murder took place, call it by its right name was wide by any standards. Someone would have to have worked really hard to avoid cruising past and slow down for the next sharp right hand turn but, instead, knock over a pedestrian. I suppose the local plods have given evidence on that point, have they?"

The look of baffled anger on Brian Cantwell's face told Shirley with great satisfaction that the police had indeed overlooked that one.

"One really strange point was when I checked out the car**,** was the position of the car seat. By my judgment, Karen over there couldn't possibly have moved the car seat like that. It would take a well built bloke, about five eleven."

"Why did you say man? It could have been a woman," Brian Cantwell said acidly.

"Did I say man? Must have slipped out. Then again, you don't see many women that size. Take a good look around you," Shirley said smiling inwardly. "There's another point. No one's found the car keys on Karen. True, she could have thrown them away. However, it's equally possible the guy in the CCTV camera has clung onto them. Check out item labelled JF1 who been positively identified as James Fenner, Principal Officer on G Wing, Larkhall Prison. He might still have them."

George was astounded by the way that Shirley had rattled through her evidence in record time, every word as clear as a bell. No more questions were needed. She was interested to see how Shirley would face up to Brian Cantwell or was it the other way round.

"Ms Cheetham, can you explain just how you were engaged by your client in the first place."

"Easy. Nikki Wade visited Larkhall in her official capacity and got talking to my aunt, Yvonne Atkins. Ms Wade put me onto Karen."

"You mean the wife of the notorious East End gangland Godfather, notorious for supplying cocaine across half of London," Brian Cantwell replied in a theatrically shocked tone of voice.

"Yeah, that side of my family is as bent as they come, I agree but do you choose your family, I ask you? Yvonne and my mother are sisters but were driven apart when Yvonne married the worst man she could find. Thank God he's out of the way and we can get to be more like family. She knows I'm straight and wouldn't do anything illegal."

"High, incorruptible moral standards, eh? Would it be true to say that you have exploited the frailties of the junior members of the police force to worm your way into police car compounds. Doesn't this taint the nature of your evidence?"

"You mean, did I slip them a fat bribe? The answer is definitely not. I treated then like a human being, not like a doormat. You try acting like a human being. It gets respect, yeah."

"Let's turn to the photograph in question. That man could be anyone from Jim Fenner to Tony Blair"

"Now there's a thought," murmured John, as he smiled impishly. A general titter rippled round the courtroom.

"It's no laughing matter, my lord," Brian Cantwell protested virtuously." I hardly think that the Prime Minister would be so foolish or venal to do anything corrupt. I put it to you that this man was not seen on CCTV coming out of the car in question."

"Neither was Karen Betts," flashed back Shirley, "You work out what really happened for yourself."

"No further questions, my lord," the barrister said in muted tones. This last encounter had been fast and furious. He has no more shots in his locker to fire.

"This is for the jury to decide tomorrow after I hear closing arguments," John pronounced in clear tones. A shiver ran up Karen's spine as the moment of decision was approaching. The daily cut and thrust of cross-examination had sustained her in some kind of limbo land. Now that had passed.

The sudden release of emotions and mutual and generous congratulation between Nikki, Helen, Tony and Karen was indescribable. George and Claire looked on, thrilled at the way the case had been made. There was no guarantees of a happy ending but they had given as much as could be expected. It was in this outpouring of emotional release that a thought suddenly struck Nikki. What about the next day? She surely couldn't break off and go back to work. Nervously, she reached for her mobile and phoned Paul Williams to tactfully explain her dilemma. He laughed aside such worries.

"I know very well that once you get immersed in the trial, wild horses wouldn't drag you and Helen away. I've already fixed up that your work is covered. Just relax. I know you, Nikki. You'll work like a slave when you get back. The only thing is, just watch out or you'll be some kind of trial junkie. Eccentric but very possible."

Nikki came off the phone with a foolish yet pleased grin on her face, silently blessing the man's understanding nature. She handed the mobile over to Helen with a meaning look. It was obvious what the smaller woman had to do.


	39. Chapter 39

**Scene Thirty Nine**

It was the morning of Thursday October 27th and Karen was tired-out when the shrill tones of her alarm clock woke her up. It had seemed like an eternity that she'd been getting up, putting on her makeup and best appearance and heading off down to the Old Bailey, seeing from afar the high domed roof, the grim grey stonework and the gilt symbol of justice on the top.

The trial was starting its fourth day the intensity of standing in the dock, all eyes upon her was starting to tell on her. The sheer immensity of the details thrashed out and argued over threatened to overwhelm her. What sustained her was the kind hearted support given to her so once again, she hauled herself up to get ready. It was the least she could do, she considered as she checked herself in the mirror, straightened her coat and automatic habit took her out of her humble front door into the grey skies and chilly winds outside.

Many people converged on the building, a determined George with Alice's softly spoken best wishes nestling fondly in her ear, Brian Cantwell, determined to roll the dice one more time, Nikki and Helen, their hopes grappling with their fears, a more confident Tony Foster, Shirley Cheetham, glancing over her next job before unusually setting off for court as this case had grabbed her imagination.

John was in silent contemplation having weighed and measured everything till the small hours of the previous night while Sir Ian remained in the foyer in solitary isolation, weighing up the political odds. Finally, for inmates at Larkhall, the clang of prison cells announced another day's unlock time as normal and Fenner was in a particularly black mood.

Brian Cantwell stood up and spoke with an outward confidence bordering on arrogance, masking the cold knowledge that his case, at best hung in the balance. Of course, he hadn't let on to Sir Ian who had periodically pestered him throughout the trial just how the trial was going.

"As I consider the prosecution, I marvel at the assembly of unsubstantiated allegations which, first and foremost is this unsubstantiated file that the accused supposedly sent to area management about the supposed misdemeanours of one James Fenner of Her Majesty's Prison, Larkhall. If indeed such a file had been compiled then I ask, where is it? My learned counsel has been silent about any attempts to retrieve this file. If it had been exhibited as evidence, then indeed there might be a case. So much rests on this file and, in its absence, then it adds the weight that the accused's final hours before setting off in the car were very different than the story of diligently slaving over a file. I ask the jury to consider the facts. In the car, was found the coat of the accused and a bottle of whisky. Three witnesses who were at the scene of the crime positively and independently identified her. In contrast, we have the evidence of Ms Stewart and Ms Wade who have been compelled to admit that the driver looked like the accused but wouldn't draw the obvious conclusion that it was the accused. We have this cock and bull yarn of the car belonging to the accused being driven by a man who put on a woman's wig and that he may be" he added with heavy emphasis," James Fenner a witness for the prosecution who strangely enough, didn't keep a low profile but chose to put his head above the parapet and give evidence in a court of law with all that it entails. We have the very amusing, music hall turn of the very aptly named Ms Shirley Cheetham and her dubious brand of forensics in her attempts to pull the wool over the jury. Finally, we have the defendant who has resigned from her job. It may be that she drove recklessly in a fit of temporary madness but clear evidence puts her in the frame as the cowardly murderer of Gerald Baker whose life was so cruelly taken away. Once again, I ask the jury, consider the facts."George had rapidly scribbled notes while Brian Cantwell was speaking and smiled to herself that this was exactly as she had foreseen. It let her unroll her own game plan and, except for John's directions, she would be in the satisfying and usual position of having the last word. In contrast to her opponent's harsh abrasiveness, she adopted a softer, more persuasive approach.

"My learned counsel has very plausibly forced together a series of occurrences into a shape**,** which have no rhyme or reason. I am imploring the jury to consider the real issues involved, the personalities involved, primarily the defendant. The nursing, nurturing strain in her is so marked, not only in terms of her own background but in looking after prisoner's welfare that were in her care, not to say bringing up her only son as well as being a working mother. Even James Fenner says, and I quote 'she got too involved in the prisoner's problems.'

Helen Stewart's testimony is remarkable in how much she agreed with my client that she and the defendant were forced apart by the machinations of one James Fenner yet, despite the frankly admitted antagonisms, both she and her partner Nikki Wade have given generous character evidence and likewise agreed with my client in having an unfortunate choice in men. In real life, this happens. My learned council has made great play of the lack of substantiation of the file that was worked on yet in conversations, the normality is that they are not tape-recorded for posterity like the Nixon tapes at the Watergate scandal. Finally, I ask that Ms Cheetham's extraordinary lucid evidence and expertise be taken into account and especially, that she has an enquiring mind that isn't rigid and hidebound.

Finally, and most important, I submit that Mr. Fenner is an extremely plausible man with a fine line in acting skills until you, the jury have seen him is exposed for who he really is. His movements on the night in question should be recalled, that he 'wanted some fresh air so he had a wander round on his own to clear his head'. He 'couldn't say where he went to' until he managed to overlook my client's car. It is more likely that he was the driver of the car and put on a wig to incriminate my client. Even he admits that of the very morning of the crime, he had a row with my client. For all these reasons, I urge you to consider the interrelationships and find my client not guilty as charged."

This was it, John Deed murmured to himself as all eyes were upon him. He had to maintain that rock solid sense of control that had been tested by the way personal relationships had intruded into the purity of his justice. He had walked the tightrope and now he had his chance to offer his guidance. The tension built up to a crescendo. Finally, he spoke.

"You the jury have an extraordinary difficult task to perform as you will need to negotiate your way through such a conflict of evidence. In doing so, you have to decide how much weight you put on certain evidence and be absolutely clear just why you consider that some witness evidence outweighs others. You need to also consider what is credible which is not the same as what is usual. The vast majority of people lead lives, which do not come the way of a court of law. This it is not to say that lives are uneventful, only that they do not land up in a court of law. You have to also weigh up the credibility of witnesses, not only in terms of honesty but also accuracy.

I would remind you that you have two simple alternatives... one is that the defendant, Karen Betts was the driver that night. If you consider she was the driver, then you must find her guilty as charged. You can consider that she was not the driver**,** in which case she is innocent. If you choose the latter course, then you are only permitting a fresh enquiry to be made. You are not putting anyone else in the dock**, **as he or she would need to be tried afresh. Finally, if you consider the defendant guilty, it must be beyond all reasonable doubt. If you have significant doubts as to her guilt, you must find her innocent.

Take your time and do not feel that you must reach a conclusion today. If you choose, you can return tomorrow to arrive at a conclusion."

Immediately the tension was released as the jury shuffled out to deliberate and players in the drama could move from their allotted spaces and stream out of the courtroom. George was one of the first out and silently mouthed to Claire and Karen to grab their attention.

"We'll catch up with our friends in the visitor's gallery and adjourn to the pub across the road. Agreed?"

The other two women silently deferred to George's natural bossiness and the crowd streamed across the large black and white chequered tile patterning, out of the doors and into the fresh air. Tony felt a little bewildered, not being used to this amount of company but was swept along by the good feelings as they dived inside the large interior of the pub. It wasn't every day that he was in the company of a crowd of attractive women but they all looked kindly on him. This felt strange but welcome.

"My round," George pronounced. "What's everyone having?"

George's forefinger pointed to everyone in turn to ensure that no one was left out and Karen volunteered to help carry the trayful of drinks. Tony was highly conscious of the background sounds of people chattering away, that feeling of conviviality but rather than making him feel self-conscious, he felt part of the crowd. For some reason, everyone was treating him kindly. Nikki he knew but Helen and Claire were being most attentive. Presently, Karen carried the tray and Helen marched ahead and commandeered a table.

While Shirley recounted some stories of her colourful and varied life, George held forth, being extraordinary witty and vivacious, and Tony was happy to sit back and listen. Nikki watched George with a great deal of interest as she talked about everything except the trial.

"She's trying to distract everyone, including herself. Waiting for the verdict can be the most stressful part of the trial," Claire whispered in Helen's ear, who nodded understandingly. She had it down to a fine art and there was no sensation of time passing.

Just when George was telling one of her droller stories of her adolescence, the bleeper in her mobile sounded. She snatched it up feverishly and all eyes were upon her.

"Time to return and remember everyone, have faith," she pronounced with more confidence than she felt.

Karen's stomach had tied itself in a reef knot, as she felt sick. This was the moment of truth and immediately, her bedsit had a very welcome homelike feeling in retrospect. She dared not think of the prison cells she had once locked and unlocked so thoughtlessly. Nikki slipped one arm in hers while Helen took command of the other. She was carried into the foyer on this wave of support and somehow, her feet carried her into the dock.

"Have you reached a verdict on which you have all agreed?" the court usher asked of the jury foreman who stood expressionless, giving no indication of her thoughts. She and the other male and female members of the jury looked fairly ordinary members of the public.

Seconds of time seemed to hang like heavy weights upon everyone in court. At this moment, the jury held sway.

"Yes we have."

"And how do you find the defendant on the charge of causing death by dangerous driving?"

"Not guilty," she said in a deliberate, perfectly articulated manner.

A charge of electricity ran through Karen. She couldn't believe what she was hearing after all these months of waiting and worrying. In the gallery, Helen let rip a yell of triumph, which was more discreetly followed by the others. There were tears in Nikki's eyes and her large heart went out to Karen. Brian Cantwell looked on, expressionless whilea rush of unashamed emotion poured through George's nervous system that she'd helped deliver Karen from the awful fate that had threatened to swallow her up. It was all their triumph and hers was only a part of it.

"Thank you, thank you for believing me," Karen whispered at last in John's direction while her legs turned to jelly. He seemed to her the personal deliverer from all her misfortunes.

"Don't thank me, Karen, thank the jury. And it now remains for me to say that you are free to go your way, unhindered."

"Of course, of course," Karen said in the direction of the twelve men and women who now were allowed smiles of congratulation. She looked round at her in bewilderment. Surely it meant that she could walk out this dock, didn't it?

********

Sir Ian was the first to leap out of the back seat of the gallery and get on the phone to Lawrence James in a quiet room away from the sounds of rejoicing.

"Ms Betts was found not guilty. That's right, I said not guilty. We are, of course, going to get flayed alive by the do gooder liberals for being vindictive and by the hang and flog them brigade for being ineffective. Open and shut case is it, Lawrence? " He added sarcastically, conveniently ignoring his own advice to Sir Alan Peasemarsh.

"The worst of it all is that for once, Deed behaved himself and there was no conflict between him and George as we had hoped. He comes out smelling of roses while we end up with egg on our faces. You know what we have got to do now. We can't afford to look weak and ineffective so we have to retrieve the situation. I suggest that this James Fenner is brought in for questioning and, no, keep Deed off the case when it gets to court. We need one sacrificial lamb to keep the mob happy. If I have anything to do with the matter, this man will serve a stretch for a very long time, preferably on bread and water and breaking rocks in Dartmoor."

"Surely prisons aren't run that way these days. Prisoners are supposed to have television in their cells and three square meals a day," protested the literal minded Sir Ian.

"Of course their not, I can but dream, can't I," snapped Sir Ian viciously.


	40. Chapter 40

**Scene Forty**

"Come on you guys, lets go and meet Karen. We'll have to face the press and all the usual stuff," Nikki urged forcefully.

"You mean television?" queried Tony, all at sea. "I never thought."

"You bet, Tony but don't worry. It will be Karen and George who'll be doing the talking. All we have to do is to stand straight in the background and look supportive. That's dead easy after you faced Cantwell in the witness stand," Nikki said kindly.

They followed Sir Ian out the back door and clattered down the curved staircase to down to the foyer. Ahead of them were the court staff and the first of the jury making their way to the exit.

"I bet you Sir Ian Whatshisname will be spitting feathers," Helen said, grinning all over.

"And Fenner as well. He's for the chop, I bet you," replied Nikki, a feeling of grim satisfaction radiating throughout her nervous system as the implications started to sink home.

Suddenly Karen came into sight, arms outstretched, her emotions visibly spilling over the top of that most restrained of personalities. Helen was the first down the staircase and seemed to rush into Karen's arms.

"Thank you, thank you," she whispered into her ear as she held her." I would never have survived with all your help."

"That's all right, Karen. I mean we're friends after all."

As Helen moved away, the blond-haired woman wiped the tears that were streaming down her face.

"You told me I'd do some good in the world, Karen," Nikki said impishly as she embraced the other woman.

"And how," Karen said in a heartfelt way. "I really didn't know how good."

"Don't I get a look in?" George asked coyly.

"Of course you do." Karen said with breaking emotion." I didn't know that it was the right thing to do to embrace a barrister."

George moved in gracefully to embrace this taller woman who had been down on her luck for so long. If only this innocent woman really knew what barristers do behind closed doors. She smiled thinking fondly of her lover.

"I've never hugged so many people for ages. I can't think what's come over me," Karen said dazedly.

"Doesn't Tony get a look in either. He's so misleading, so much more to him than meets the eye. I think he showed terrific courage in standing up to their barrister," Nikki said tenderly. She's spotted how nervous he felt in this female-to-female bonding. At once, Karen smothered him in a wave of gratitude and subtle perfume.

From a distance, John Deed looked on at the scenes of overflowing emotion with tenderness. If this is what female solidarity is about, then so be it. He had certainly benefited from it and the last of his still lurking feelings of disturbance at George's relationship with Alice were at last released. He could contemplate it philosophically now and know that he could never really lose that part of George that was his to possess. He couldn't really join the crowd and that was the only element of regret. He floated off to his chambers on a river of tranquillity.

The sense of time felt as if it hung suspended. Everything had been so geared to this one moment that it was difficult to think what came next. Nikki knew that they had only so much time before they had to face the press**,** but Karen needed time to be prepared for it. As the conversation started to subside, Nikki started to look around her and spotted her brother, obviously commiserating with Brian Cantwell. At once, her face darkened and she stormed over to them. She had old scores to settle which went back such a long way and this was the best moment she could think of.

"For all your stuck-up pompous manner, you really are such an idiot, John. You really screwed up over Fenner."

"Your side won. Isn't that enough?" Brian Cantwell flared, his natural combativeness aroused. John Wade was tight faced with mingled rage and embarrassment at this public scene.

"I've got nothing against you, Mr. Cantwell, you were just doing your job. This argument is personal, between me and my windbag of a brother," Nikki fired back. The barrister promptly stepped back. He was only a hired gun with just his fee to pick up. This wasn't his problem.

"You really thought that slimy bastard Fenner was like an upright British officer," Nikki shouted, her lip curling in scorn. "An old mate of mine, Yvonne Atkins, a working class woman from the Eastend of London saw through him in five seconds flat. You, a highly trained professional, should have known better."

John Wade flushed with anger and shame. Years ago, Nikki had always been smarter than him in childhood arguments, even though he was older than her when age differences really mattered. These ancient rivalries ran deep. He knew now what he had long denied to himself, that their father had always preferred Nikki to him. She had that sharp intelligence, that knack of command that he had lacked. His professional qualifications served to plaster over the cracks in his abilities.

" I bet you're really glad that your side won. You know she got off by a fluke," he finally blustered.

"Believe what you like. I know that Fenner played you for a right sucker and, through you, an innocent woman might have gone down. I'm going for the victory party outside but don't forget, I see through you. I always have."

Turning on her heel, she caught a glimpse of Brian Cantwell's look of respect. He'd heard of John Deed waxing lyrically about her virtues and put that down to the sentimental streak in the man. He'd rapidly shifted his perspective. Like her formidable partner, Nikki had given him a good run for his money under cross**-**reexamination and he couldn't help but notice how she'd wiped the floor with her brother. He just wished he could work with a solicitor with her blunt honesty and willingness to disagree with him instead of toadying to him and telling him what he wanted to know.

"I hate to say it, Karen but you'll need to face the press," Helen said after she caught Nikki's glance towards the front doors.

"Whatever do I say?" Karen said, a note of panic in her voice.

"Karen, you have the advantage that the press screwed up. I haven't wanted to say it before but the tabloids have been baying for your blood. They've got to pull off some fancy footwork to get their way out of this one," Claire advised in her soothing tones.

"Half of them serve the 'hang them and flog them' brigade, you know the ones who say that prisons are too soft and they ought to give a 'short sharp shock' as a deterrent to people committing crimes. You and I know what they're like," Helen said in scornful tones.

"Just tell them like it is."

"All right, Nikki. I will. After all, I'm a free citizen," Karen said in determined tones. She was on towards the next reel of the movie. She opened the heavy swing door and pushed her way through the barrier, prepared for anything.

**********

All at once, a small army who were equipped with cameras, sound booms and film gear confronted Karen. _Can they really all be for me_, she wondered? She didn't waste any time in launching into the thoughts that came straight off her consciousness.

"I'm not one for making big speeches. I'm one for rolling up my sleeves and getting the job done, whether as a nurse or prison officer. I want to thank from the bottom of my heart the jury who took time to listen, to not prejudge or label but to be fair-minded. There's not enough of that spirit about these days. I give undying thanks to those who have stepped forward, who always believed in me and who worked untiringly for me, I mean George Channing and Claire Walker who represented me, my dear friends Nikki and Helen, that very remarkable man Tony Foster who spoke out for me and last but not least, the very talented Shirley Cheetham. Without here help, I wouldn't be here right now….."

Karen paused and looked around her. Suddenly, the conversation she had heard of Nikki laying into her brother over Fenner came into her mind. Suddenly, feelings of anger boiled over in her in her disciplined, controlled fashion of being done down by the source of all her troubles. She didn't think whether she was prudent to make public comment but, sod it, this was the time and the place.

"I give no thanks to those who in power in Larkhall Prison where I worked who have not given me an atom of support or acknowledgement in my troubles, especially one in particular I can think of. Out of sight, out of mind sums them up. I would like to think that there are those prisoners who will be pleased at seeing justice done**,** as after all, during my time at Larkhall running one of the wings there, I have tried to be humane, firm**,** but fair. I hope they think well of me.

This has been a totally shattering experience for me because I would have never thought that I would ever be accused of a serious crime, that I know that I had nothing to do with, it but for all that, that I was not believed when I should have been."

******

On the other side of the television screen in Larkhall, Karen's grim expression riveted Yvonne, Kris, the Julies and Denny to their seats. They had been on association, bored out of their skulls while the communal TV played its mindless background babble to no one in particular. Automatic habit made them prick up their ears to the news. It was their only lifeline to the outside world. When the name 'Larkhall' sounded in the air, Yvonne immediately jumped to the right conclusion. She'd agreed to keep schtum with both Lauren and Shirley as there were too many prying eyes and ears where letters and phone calls were concerned. She just had to bottle everything up and stop Colin from blabbing. She had to work on Kris to knock some sense into her head and stop her from mouthing off**,** and thank God the younger inmate had learnt a bit of common sense.

"Hey, shut up girls, it's about us," Yvonne yelled**.**

At once, the announcer faded out to reveal a crowd on the steps of the Old Bailey. It soon panned in on a grim faced Karen Betts whose blue eyes looked unflinchingly into the TV screen while her long blond hair was gently ruffled in the breeze.

"Hey, it's Miss Stewart and Nikki and all," she yelled delightedly as two familiar figures stood modestly in the background while two other good-looking women flanked her**,** "…….and it's our Shirley."

"So who did run that poor devil down?" Julie Saunders demanded accusingly of Fenner**, **who passed by, face like thunder.

"Surely three witnesses couldn't have got it wrong?" a young press reporter urged, thrusting a microphone aggressively into Karen's face.

Cheeky young upstart, Karen thought angrily as she stared down at him in icy contempt.

"The trouble is that there are too many who only see what they want to see. I got arrested, my picture appeared in the tabloids and they jumped to the wrong conclusion. What you should be thinking about is that the real murderer is somewhere out there on the loose and he ought to be brought to justice."

'What are you planning to do with your life now, Miss Betts?"

"What indeed?……." Karen said vaguely, totally flummoxed by the more sympathetic question. The future hadn't come into existence until this moment. She had a lot of thinking to do." I need to find myself a normal life, enjoy the life of those dear to me and get a job to pay the bills …..and put back something into society. Let's face it, I've urged that on a number of prisoners I've known in my time."

"Fenner, Fenner," Al started to chant swiftly at Larkhall, swiftly followed by the others. This was a chant that was part jubilation, part accusation and part threat." Fenner, Fenner,……."

"All of you, you're on immediate lockdown if you don't all shut it," yelled Fenner, a shaft of fear stabbing him to the heart. He hadn't counted on this. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

"You are not allowed to slander a senior officer in this way," Di Barker shouted petulantly. She knew exactly what had happened. That glamorous bitch had somehow wriggled her way out even though she was as guilty as sin. "Association has finished. Go back to your jobs. All your privileges will be withdrawn if you don't behave yourself," she added.

"Who said we're slandering our wonderful principal officer? That sounds like a guilty conscience," teased Yvonne as she swept past followed by the Julies. This time, stuffing envelopes sounded like fun, as she and her mates would carry on the screw baiting unless it was Miss Geeson and Colin Hedges. They knew which targets to pick, those who deserved it and those that they'd leave alone.

"Shirley? She related to you?" Julie Saunders asked. She had only heard of Yvonne's immediate family.

"That's It's my very talented niece, Shirley Cheetham, best private eye in the world."

"Cheetham?" Al echoed in a bemused fashion." It's a crap name. Cheetham. Cheat them. Get it?"

"It's a family joke. She's dead straight but still a bit of an Atkins but not the Charlie kind if you see what I mean. She and my sister hated his guts. They were dead right. I'm proud of her," Yvonne finished, her voice breaking with emotion.

"Quiet there," the averagely harmless prison officer called out.

************

"So what do we do now?" Karen asked, suddenly feeling tired out as the press filtered off.

"I know the answer. Let's have a party to celebrate. I know the ideal place if Trisha and Sally Anne will oblige us," George asked, a grin of satisfaction on her face. There was a ripple of reaction round is time around, she knew perfectly well what she was letting herself in for. There was a ripple of mixed reaction amongst the group, Karen looking uncertainly round her. In her tired state, she found it difficult to focus.


	41. Chapter 41

**Scene Forty-One **

Claire was the first to comment on the obvious problem that needed resolving in the group.

"I hate to say it, Helen but I'll give it a miss. You know very well it's not my thing and besides Tony is in the same boat as me."

"What do you mean?" came his puzzled reply, his naivety having a kind of innocent charm about him.

"It's a lesbian club, Tony," Nikki said politely, followed by an exchange of worried looks. None of them wanted anyone to be left out. It would be unfair and the height of discourtesy.

"I've got the answer. Supposing you come with me for a meal, Tony. It's on me," Claire intervened to Tony's great relief. There was something calming and relaxing about her company, which promised the ideal solution of what he really wanted.

"I hate to say that I'm ducking out of this one, you guys. I've got another job in that I must get started on. It's rare for me to see a case out this far but I wanted to be in on the finish," Shirley said reluctantly. Everyone silently respected her wishes.

"Hmmn, this sounds interesting even if it's all new to me," Karen said in undecided tones. At that moment, the compass guiding her future was spinning round in circles.

"Oh but you must come with us, Karen. Better this than back to your flat on your own," urged Helen very prettily, a pleading look in her eyes.

"I'm on. I could do with a bit of fun." The words came out of Karen's mouth without thinking, surprising herself with her prompt agreement. Everything came into sudden sharp focus as she suddenly placed in perspective the darkness of those past months. While her faculties had been frozen up inside with stress, when the only glint of hope for the future were her dear friends who were all around her. It had done her one favour in drawing a line under all the illusions of her past life. Everything was suddenly vibrant, brand new and up for grabs. She was ready for anything. A slow smile spread across her face.

"Is everyone happy and fixed up then?" said George, excitedly. She had always loved organising social occasions. It meant that farewells could take place on the right note.

********

Many hours**'** later, indefinable pleasurable feelings ran through Karen's system. She felt exquisitely comfortable and entirely at peace with herself. It was only when she tried to moved, when she opened half an eyelid, did she realised she was lying on a double bed, which was incredibly restful but it wasn't hers. Where on earth was she, she wondered as vivid warm colours and sweet perfumes invaded her senses.

"Relax, Karen," Nikki softly urged her, standing incredibly tall above her as she noticed the bewildered expression in the blond haired woman's eyes as they flickered open," You've crashed out at our flat."

"Nikki, has everything really happened as I really think it has? I must have been dreaming."

"If you mean, have you been cleared of the hit and run murder, trashed the press and are you really going to pick out your outfit to wear for coming with us to 'Chix' tonight, it's a definite yes. Everything is for real."

"Chix?" Karen asked in a bewildered tone of voice.

"Trisha and Sally Anne's club. That's where the celebration party is," Helen said cheerfully while Nikki went to fetch a mug of black, strong coffee. "We'll put on our glad rags in a while when you're good and ready."

"Oh, that's what I thought I remembered happening. That's fine," Karen said vaguely. She might as well go with the flow. She felt that she was drawing a line under everything that had happened in her life up until now. Her future started from today.

Karen sat up just as a hot steaming mug of coffee was placed in her hands. She sipped it gently as she stared at her surroundings. It started to put some life back into her or was it the feeling of being safe?

Presently, she carried it through and drifted into the lounge while the sound of running water announced that one or her other friends was taking a shower. Presently, she duly freshened herself up and slipped on her outfit that she had brought along. It was a simple long sleeved black dress ending a bit above her knee and was nicely shaped. Her pair of silver high- heeled sling backs were similarly bold and simple. She set to work on her makeup while the sounds of human company felt good and reassuring. Life flowed in a leisurely fashion, not the emptiness of detachment from life and not the deadline to be on court on the dot. She stood up as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

"How do you think I look? Will I be suitably dressed for the party?" she asked.

The two other women's jaws dropped a mile. They never expected her to look as gorgeous as she did. They were stuck for words as, after all, Karen was a straight woman and they were totally unsure whether or not she was coming with them to get unstraightened or alternatively, just because she wanted some light and colour in her life.

"Let's put it this way, we're not complaining," stammered Nikki. "I mean you look fantastic."

In turn, Karen stared open eyed at the other two women. Helen looked ravishing in her midnight blue high neck halter dress with bare shoulders while Nikki was mysteriously alluring in her grey flat-front trousers and wide, ruffled neckline, ruffled-cuffs blouse that made her look sophisticated yet playful.

"You both look incredible," breathed Karen." If this is a foretaste of the future, I think I'm going to enjoy this evening."

The other two women briefly exchanged glances. So far, so good though if they were honest with themselves, all they intended was to show Karen a good time.

With a sense of anticipation, the three women slid into a taxi and Helen phoned George on her mobile to check out how they were going on. With a smile of satisfaction, Helen clicked off the phone. In the meantime, their carriage whisked them along the darkened streets. While only the occasional streetlamp illuminated the gloom, it wasn't going to be cold and desolate where they were going as they chattered inconsequentially to each other.

Karen revelled in the heightened sensibilities of being free, single and unencumbered. _The night was young_, she murmured to herself, and she was in safe hands as she felt a tingle of excitement inside her. She hadn't a clue as to what was going to happen**,** but that was a positive attraction.

Presently, she was out in the street and followed a laughing, carefree Helen and Nikki past the 'Chix' logo. The pulsing sounds of the nightclub was much as she knew clubs to be**, **but when she got into the interior, Karen's breath was taken away.

"I'm so glad you could make it for the celebrations, Karen," that now familiar aristocratic drawl greeted her but the other woman's appearance was spectacularly different. George was wearing a ravishingly revealing flowing yellow dress exposing her generous breasts and her bare shoulders. For the first time, Karen saw how shapely George's legs were. She had been used to the other woman's professional garb.

"My God, George, I never knew that barristers could look as good as you do. I mean I always sort of knew but I saw you as a professional."

"Well, this is who I am off duty. I must introduce you to my lovely partner, Alice who's the best thing that has happened to me."

Karen gaped as this tall willowy woman with long dark hair came into view and slipped her arm inside George's and linked hands.

"I would never have guessed. I mean, it's great to meet you," stammered Karen. Her first instinct for such a correct woman was to feel ridiculously embarrassed**,** but she saw all the women look kindly on her. _This isn't Larkhall__,_ she reflected with great satisfaction as she started to make conversation. _All they are asking of me_ _is that_ _I__ am__real_.

"Drinks**…**you guys," Trisha offered, Sally-Anne close behind her. "I guess you wiped the floor with the opposition. I can tell it from your manner, George."

"You mean I look smug and self satisfied?"

"Karen, this is my oldest friend and one time partner, Trisha who brilliantly runs this club with Sally-Anne and still keeps the flag flying even though she would never admit it." Nikki explained to the blond haired woman

Whose face was flushed with excitement. They were making her feel so welcome and totally at her ease.

"Didn't you once run a club, Nikki?" Karen asked, catching a stray passing memory from her prison file, a long time ago.

"Yeah, this one. I set it up with Trisha who I lived with but, hey, I fell for Helen and Trisha met Sally-Anne. Everything's for the best."

Karen gaped at this revelation as she knocked back her drink. She couldn't believe such generosity between exes, as Fenner and Mark Waddle came briefly to mind to be promptly banished. Her gaze took her to the dance floor where the party was hotting up. Underneath the pulsing lights and splashes of colour, women swayed and gyrated together with the rhythm of the music. Occasionally a couple would embrace and kiss each other. Whatever was going on here was all right by her as she was transported to another world.

"So this is all new to you, Karen?" Sally Anne asked softly. " If it helps, Trisha is my first and only female lover."

"Female lover, I like that phrase," came Karen's reflective reply**,** while the dark haired woman saw the admiring glances that were coming Karen's way from women who floated past. She was certainly a stunner, if she only knew it.

Helen passed over another tray of drinks and silently placed another glass into the blond-haired woman's hand." I remember flirting with Yvonne when I took her to a bar after escort duty to visit her son in hospital. I told her that I'd go lesbian if it took a pill. Well, we'd just been told Larkhall was going to be privatised and a clean sweep was going to be made of all the jobs my grade," added Karen defiantly to Helen's wide-open eyes.

"So Karen, crossing the line isn't quite so novel to you after all, with or without a pill?" Helen said with a challenging grin.

"All right, so are we ready to rock and be out on the dance floor or are we going to be talking all night?" Nikki interjected not quite hearing the conversation between Helen and Karen.

On the dance floor, George and Alice had that lovely cocooned feeling as their eyes feasted on each other and they knew that the weekend would soon be here. Helen and Nikki were moving to their shared rhythms as if they were magnetically attracted to each other, and were amazed that Karen could cut loose in this way. Behind the bar, Trisha saw with interest how a slim attractive woman, fashionably dressed with dark hair cut in a stylish chin length bob insinuated herself into the group of dancers. She was obviously attracted by the way that Karen released all the tensions and frustrations of the past few months, and the way her dancing heightened her obvious attractions. She and Sally-Anne knew that they provided a club where women like them could be themselves and affectionately watched over how romances came to blossom.

"It looks as if history is repeating itself, darling," George said loudly into her lover's ear, while being caressed by her.

There was a limit to just looking at the rounded charms of her lover, Alice reasoned, and if this isn't a time to give way to natural pleasures, she didn't know what was. Alice was very protective and supportive in the way that George flung herself into her work and only she knew what it took for the smaller woman to pull herself together to become the razor sharp professional that others saw.

Karen was having the time of her life and idly noticed how this attractive stranger had come within her gravitational pull, but reasoned that this was quite natural, the way life could quite easily be. After all, she had always been tolerant of lesbian relationships. The way she threw her body around was expressive of herself and it pleased her that she wouldn't be dependent on her friends and have to play gooseberry all night. She had had that experience way back in that self-conscious awkward stage in her early adolescence. Time flew naturally on until finally, both of them became hot and exhausted. Quite naturally, they gravitated to a private table for two in the recesses of the club as somehow or other, she and this woman had become paired.

.


	42. Chapter 42

**Scene Forty-Two**

"Whew, this is quite some party," Karen said breathlessly before she tentatively sought to make the woman the far side of the table feel more personal to herself in her best friendly fashion.

"Everyone needs to let their hair down. It comes of being ourselves instead of wearing false faces all week," the dark haired woman remarked.

"I don't think we've been introduced before, anyway, I'm Karen and I used to be a nurse." Instantly, she felt foolish after blurting out her poor reply to the other woman's thoughtful words. Somehow, she didn't want to admit being part of the prison service that had screwed her over so she had blindly reached for that part of her identity that she still felt comfortable with.

"That's really nice. Nurses are really important. I'm Beth and I saw you as soon as you entered the club."

"I didn't think I was that noticeable," Karen said in a self-deprecating way. She wasn't that good at taking compliments. Her cynical experience to date was that men who chatted her up came out with a load of false romantic bullshit. Women somehow had never complimented her in that way and this woman's tone sounded warm and genuine. She realised that she needed to adjust her ideas smartly.

"You need to love yourself before you can love others. There's a danger in being a nursemaid to others however noble it might seem. That isn't the same as being self-centred. Perhaps no one's told you what's really attractive in a woman."

The woman's large eyes, carved straight nose and delicately shaped lips were as much as an attraction as her soft words. She had made the immediate right connection with Karen.

This was a totally new experience for Karen and she let herself go with the flow. Now she was beginning to see how women could be attracted to each other, she sighed, as she rested her chin on her hand, fingers delicately extended. She didn't take her deep blue eyes away from the dark haired woman in front of her, who felt a shiver of anticipation run through her.

"That's the best news I've heard for a long time, darling," Karen said in her best seductive fashion. Long ago, she had used the same word when she had asked Yvonne if she would get another date with her. Now that playacting was starting to become for real.

An infinity of time had flowed onwards in her shared world before Karen felt the prodding of her social obligations as she sensed company.

"I'm really sorry I've neglected you all," she said apologetically, her fingers linked with Beth's, "but I've been otherwise engaged."

"Don't you worry about a thing, Karen," George said emphatically in her best bossy fashion. "It's not that we need to lose contact with each other, do we?"

Nikki folded her arms across her chest, while Helen looked directly at her. Trisha's friendly smile welcomed her, Sally-Anne's soft eyes told her yes and Alice raised her eyebrows, silently signalling 'why not.' Karen had had such a rough time for god knows how long that she deserved a break. All six women insistently prodded Karen to pursue a new line in her life, to say goodbye to far too many mistakes. Yes, anything was possible that night. Temptations were irresistible and somehow good.

"Yes, I see what you mean, why not?"

"The best two words I ever knew, Karen." Nikki said, neatly reversing past roles and seeing her off into her unknown future. "If I were you, I wouldn't keep Beth waiting."

Karen smiled broadly at her friend's encouragement, linked arms with Beth and leaned into her new friend. They left the club on a cloud of jubilation. The night was still young.

*******

Karen started to feel slightly nervous when she got to a block of flats and climbed the first flight of stairs to Beth's. _First of all, how does a woman make love to another__woman?_ She thought to herself. As if in answer, the other woman squeezed her hand in reassurance. After the bedroom sidelight faded out, the flat was dark except for the streetlight, casting a dim light into the room, which made the room seem magical. It was not till they lay on the soft wide reassuring bed and the other woman gently caressed her hair and moved it off her shoulders did the reality of the moment finally registered with Karen. She was not used to how astonishingly delicate the touch of another lover could be. When Beth kissed the taller woman and touched her skin, it felt that she already knew Karen physically, who felt natural for in returning the other woman's kiss. Everything took place in delicious slow motion, how they carefully removed their clothes so that nothing lay between them.

"You know I've never slept with another woman?" Karen said, feeling slightly ridiculous as she lay down on her back.

"It has to be any woman's first time some time in their lives. You relax and take it easy. I'll look after you. That's a promise," came the soft, caring answer.

"I'm not exactly a spring chicken," Karen said nervously to this younger woman.

"I have a thing for older women, especially you babes. Your problem is that you don't know how gorgeous you are," came the reply. This made Karen feel good about herself. Being called a babe by another woman in a direct sexual sense made her feel more confident.

The last residue of tension flowed visibly out of Karen and she felt comfortable as Beth 's lips and tongue softly ran over her body. The younger woman felt and tasted the texture of the generous curves she had admired from afar. When her lips at last caressed the blond haired woman's nipples, Beth's senses were delighted to savour how hard they were and how her lover started to moan freely with uninhibited pleasure. She sensed that this woman would be a natural in bed, but hadn't really known it till now.

"God, that feels so good, darling," Karen murmured as her body began to move as first one and then the other nipple was lovingly caressed. Instead of inwardly fearing what came next, she couldn't wait to know what pleasures were in store. Karen's fingers lovingly reached out and caressed the younger woman's smooth as silk and gently perfumed skin. She couldn't believe how good they felt together.

Beth gently stroked her lover's flat stomach and gradually moved down to her hips before ever so gently, her two fingers pressed in to where her lover's juices were starting to flow. Karen started to cry out in ecstasy as those unbelievable fingers started to rouse her towards a climax. Her hips started moving rhythmically in time to the thrusts down on her. To Beth's amazement, her lover's orgasm was like a slow sustained explosion that never wanted to stop as her juices poured from her as this very controlled woman finally let herself go.

Karen was left, gasping and spent on this very soft and supporting bed while those very liquid eyes looked kindly down on her and the younger woman's fingers delicately stroked the long locks of her hair as she lay down next to her.

"Have you ever fantasized about making love to another woman, babes?" Beth's soft voice whispered in Karen's ear. Immediately, Beth realized her mistake as the skin she was gently caressing became tense. "You don't have to worry, darling. The way that we and other women live our lives, it's perfectly allowed."

"Thank God for that," came Karen's heartfelt instant reply as she instantly relaxed and elaborated her reply. "Yeah, I have to be honest there's been many a time when I've been alone in bed, I've imagined someone soft and gentle and feminine next to me. I know how much my experience with men was a final dead end. Finally my life's opening up again**…** so really this is inevitable if it makes any sense."

"Perfect sense, darling," came Beth's soft response as her hands continued to further explore her lover's curves. It prompted a slight pang of guilt in Karen**,** in suddenly realizing that she felt intimate enough to tell this woman her life's story when expression of a more direct intimacy was so obvious. There was no hurry to talk as she sensed that endless time lay before them. She told herself as she took hold of her lover's hand and her tongue and lips tasted an aroma on those shapely fingers.

"You are such a good lover, Beth. Now it's my turn to show you what I feel for you, what I can do for you. I want to make love to you all night long," Karen said in her throaty voice as she eased herself up off the bed. Beth lay on her back, legs slightly apart, knowing that this woman wasn't kidding. This woman exuded a powerfully mature sexuality that made her feel weak all over.

Outside Karen's flowering desires, it crossed her mind how this had to be the best night since she didn't know when and a start of better things to come. Everything bad that had ever happened to her was triumphantly abolished, she murmured ecstatically to herself. The blond haired woman contemplated the ripe body of her lover with unmitigated desire, as she looked down on her future and her fingertips reached out towards her desires.

.

Beth was utterly taken aback as all Karen's coiled up sexual desire was suddenly and energetically unleashed on her. A split second later, the dark haired woman woke up to the possibilities and gleefully joined her lover for the ride. Their lovemaking was like a helter skelter roller coaster, careening along at a whirlwind pace as their sexual lusts boiled over.Flickering sensations ran through Beth of being entwined, the feeling of hands against skin, their taste of each other, Karen's mouth eagerly seeking out her desires, her lips and tongue coaxing her up to a climax that lasted forever. In turn, the blond haired woman was insatiable as her juices poured into the dark haired woman's mouth. The rhythm of Karen's hips was hard and fast and seemed to go on forever. Both women exulted loudly in the stream of pleasure that surged through them together. Only goodness knows how later it was when they slowly calmed down with that glorious feeling that their world was perfect.

"I've fantasized enough about lesbian sex but never expected anything like this," Karen whispered tenderly into her lover's ear.

"Babes, you are such a good lover," Beth marvelled, she felt a glowing sensation inside her at her lover's warm-hearted compliment. She had never had complaints from any of her past lovers**, **but somehow what Karen thought and felt about her really mattered. She equally admired and gloried in Karen's unembarrassed description of her sexuality. Impulsively she pressed her lips against Karen's and her tongue found what she searched for, deep inside. The taste of their juices was a fabulous bouquet to both women as they murmured with deep satisfaction into each other's mouths.

The room was blissfully quiet as the two women lay on their sides, resting against each other. Karen felt an enormous sense of languorous satisfaction as she started to rub her leg against Beth's shapely thigh and her breasts pressed up against Beth's. She laid her face against her lover's neck and kissed the that soft, velvety texture from time to time.

"I knew straight off that this was the first time for you and you wasn't sure what to expect but wow, I didn't expect this. You are the superwoman of sex."

"Thanks for that delightful compliment but just one thing, you were wondering what to expect? What about me?" Karen laughed softly. "It's just as well you were around so I could figure out what to do next."

"Darling, you're just a quick learner."

"And good at unlearning everything I never knew about sex. This is a new beginning for me so sleeping with a gorgeous woman is as good a way of starting anew."

"You really have had it with men?"

Karen was quick to pick up on the flicker of uncertainty in Beth's voice and went out of her way to emphatically reassure her. It felt the natural thing to do. "Darling, if you saw what incredible blunders I've made in my futile effort to find the 'right man', you would understand. Right now, would I ever go back to cheap and nasty supermarket plonk after tasting the finest champagne? What the hell have I missed out all my life?"

"So where does this leave you, babes?"

"I know I'm a lesbian, pure and simple. The past is abolished. I don't know what it means as this is all new to me."

Beth sensed Karen looking over her shoulder into the darkness as she spoke in level, considered tones. She was not deceived. "You're not alone, sweetheart."

"Does this mean I get another date with you?" came Karen's question, her nervousness out in the open as her thoughts inevitably started to drift towards the future. Inwardly, she cursed her years of responsibility as they had inevitably marked her now that she had a future worth thinking of. "Oh God, I feel like a teenager out on her first date."

Beth gently placed her hands either side of Karen's face and kissed her eyes tenderly. Her emotions were brimming over.

"Darling, you're amazing. You've endured all the horrors of being falsely accused of murder. You've fought your way through to your trial and come out triumphant. You go to a lesbian club for the first time in your life**,** you give me the most phenomenal night of passion imaginable and you worry about a second date? Come here, sweetheart, I love you to bits," Beth answered in tones of total devotion.

"You do???"

"Come on, I've heard all about you from Alice that wasn't confidential. Helen and Nikki have been really concerned about you. I've picked up quite a bit from them. We have all the time in the world to know each other better than we do already."

The last words washed away the last of Karen's 'play it cool' habits engrained over the years and her love for Beth overflowed her natural defences. What thrilled her inside was how natural it was to give and receive terms of endearment so sincerely. It felt like part of making love with another woman. By contrast, what she had received before was cheap and fake, partly of her own doing. This was another part of her new start in life. She did let one last habit surface, as after all, this was the ideal moment.

"You don't mind if I smoke, babes?" asked Karen.

"Go ahead. I'll join you. I'll turn the light on."

Suddenly, a soft light clicked on which momentarily dazzled her. Finally, Beth came into view from out of the darkness and Karen gasped with amazement. This woman was totally gorgeous. Remembering her errand, she fumbled for her handbag amidst the pile of clothes and sauntered slowly back to her lover.

"I suppose you wanted to feast your eyes on me," drawled Beth, reclining elegantly on the bed, clear of the crumpled up duvet.

"Of course I wanted to and if you want to ogle me, that's fine by me," came the sultry reply as she slid onto the bed.

Both women couldn't keep their eyes off each other. Karen's wide-open eyes were dazzled by that sleek figure that had stepped out of a magazine. Beth swooned at the vision of perfect mature femininity before her, whose few lines only added to her beauty, topped by those devastating blue eyes and perfect cheekbones. They couldn't resist touching each other, murmuring their desires, as they knew that they had each other to possess and admire. Karen ran her tongue along her lower lip, sensing that it was down to her to set the seal on their union and wholeheartedly commit herself. It was so much easier than she had always feared.

"So we trust to the future together, yeah," came her answer thick with emotion before the 'never say' words were squeezed out of her. "I love you, babes, more than I can say." Karen said not really shocking herself.

The dark haired woman lay on her back, dizzy with emotion. She had got to where she wanted to be, more so as she sensed her lover moved over to straddle her. _Oh God,_ she thought, to be between Karen's legs. _This is surely heaven_, Beth thought, as her lover kissed her deeply, without reservation, and once again, their passions started to bubble up to the surface.


	43. Chapter 43

**Scene Forty-Three**

"So your minder's been found out for the evil minded murdering shit that he is," Yvonne shouted jubilantly at Di Barker, the light of triumph in her eyes. Kris stood defiantly, hands thrust into the deep pockets of her combat styled jeans while the Julies stood either side of them. A deep smouldering sense of burning injustice was catching fire in their very beings.

"Go back to your cells or I'll cancel all your privileges," Di Barker shouted weakly, making no impact at all.

"Fenner, Fenner, Fenner…," chanted Tina, Denny and Al clearly above the general chorus. Mayhem had broken out on the wing as soon as the news broke of Fenner's arrest. Rumbles of discontent had been brewing up since Miss Betts' acquittal. She had been a popular wing governor and after her departure, everything had been clamped down on. Word had got around that Fenner was really to blame and the latest news on the television confirmed it. All the prisoners eyed the likes of Di Darker and Bodybag with total contempt. The atmosphere smouldered and all it took was a match to set it alight. Colin Hedges and Selena had tried to do their best in the period of clampdown and now they stayed out of the way as this wasn't their problem. In fact, they could understand the prisoners kicking off. Finally, the prisoners quietened down, knowing that the balance of power had tilted their way. Back in her cell, Yvonne murmured to herself in a flood of emotion and a big broad grin on her face that Nikki had come good for all of them. She made a mental note to sort out a party with her best mates and toast Nikki's health. If they could get a letter crutched out to her, they would.

Grayling acted swiftly. Di Barker had shown herself to be spiteful and ineffective. She now showed that she hadn't got a grip on the wing and was totally compromised by her supplanting Karen. He reached for the phone to Area. **A **direct entrant, name of Frances Myers was waiting in the wings and had the reputation of being hard as nails, easily the match for what was to be the newly demoted Principal Officer Di Barker. His long-term strategy was to find a replacement for her on transfer and get her shipped out also. A new broom sweeps clean was his motto.

*********

Everything started to unravel for Fenner the day the news of Betts acquittal broke at Larkhall. The cons were a baying mob but they scared the shit out of him. He knew beyond doubt that his story had been blown apart, that there would be an investigation and he'd be the fall guy. He and Di Barker knocked off early and he let her drive him back to her house. While she grumped and groused in her cloying fashion, he sat, almost in a foetal position, feeling sweaty all over. He reached for his bottle of tranquillizers and swallowed a couple. He cursed himself, as the tablets wouldn't calm him down straightaway. He knew very well what would comfort him and it was in liquid form. "What are you doing, Jim?" Di asked."What does it bloody well look like? I know bloody well what I want," Fenner said abruptly as he lunged for the drinks cabinet."But Jim, getting drunk won't help. You have to work out a plan of action. I'll help you. Every cloud has a silver lining," Di persisted in that precisely cloying tone of voice that made him feel inadequate in suggesting he couldn't cope. To hell with that, he thought as he pushed her away off her feet and into an armchair. He grabbed the bottle of whisky, ripped off the cap and glugged at it. Even to his practiced drinking, the spirits stung his throat."But what about the tranquillizers you took in the car? The instructions say you can't mix them with alcohol."

Suddenly his temper exploded inside him and he lashed her across the face. No woman was going to tell him what to do. He hit her again and she lay back on the settee with a look of terror on her face, blood already starting to run from her nose. She looked petrified at what he would do next and shrank into the settee. She felt as if her life hung on a thread. It was her or the bottle, her mind crazily told her. His manic stare flitted between the two of them before he swore loudly to himself, grabbed the car keys as well as the bottle and shot out of the room. This was the beginning of a long drunk that never let up for the next few days. It was on Saturday morning that a heavy rap on the door heralded two obviously dyke policewomen who barged through his front door. His anger flared over the top but they weren't having any messing around. They hauled him down to Larkhall police station and the next thing he knew was being sprawled out in the waiting room until they found a DI who would interview him. It was here that he finally woke up to find who and where he was. Now that he was starting to sober up, life didn't look brighter or more cheerful.

*********

A week after the trial, the phone rang in Helen and Nikki's flat. As Nikki was about to start cooking the evening meal, Helen called out from the hallway.

"I'll get it." She thought it was probably going to be some irritating cold caller and didn't sound too welcoming. The reply made her prick up her ears.

"Shirley Cheetham here. Seeing as I'm professionally nosy and inquisitive, I thought I'd tip you off on a news item that's going to make the front page. Fenner's been arrested over the hit and run murder."

"No. I can't believe it. For the first time in his bloody life………"

Nikki turned the cooker off and left the ingredients scattered around on the work surface on hearing Helen speak so excitedly.

"My spies tell me that they went round to his bedsit and lifted him, first thing in the morning. He looked as rough as the bottom of a parrot's cage- looks like he'd been drinking. First he played dumb and then he had some idea of pulling rank, of reminding him of how Mr. Important he was. He finally lost his rag so they clapped the handcuffs on him and dragged him out to the car, still shouting. They weren't in on the interview but they gathered that the police gave him the third degree before he finally cracked**."**

"Who were your spies, just as a matter of interest, Shirley?"

"Ros and Jenny. Who else? They couldn't tell you direct but someone who worked with them once, well that's different. They really wanted you to find out, to get the inside knowledge. They knew you'd want to know. So how does that feel?"

"Like the end of an era. Fenner finally banged up," breathed Helen, still trying to take it in. A kaleidoscope of Fenner nearly being caught rushed through her over-active mind while Nikki put her hand to her mouth.

"It's one for Karen as well and every prisoner he's messed over. About bloody time."

"How's Karen doing these days?"

"She's applied to go back to nursing and she's starting very soon. She's also doing her best to forget Fenner the best way she knows- in the loving arms of a woman," Helen said with great satisfaction." It's a pity he doesn't know that. That would really piss him off."

"Well, that's poetic justice for you," came the laconic reply." Give my best wishes to Nikki and the others."

In the kitchen, Nikki's eyes remained wide open with disbelief. Karen's acquittal was the obvious signal but for all that………

*************

The same day, a smiling Coope left out a copy of the "Times" on the desk in John's chambers and he read the paper from cover to cover. It was only in passing that he spotted an item at the inside column on Page 9 which read as follows:

"An unexpected development took place with the detention of Mr. James Fenner, long serving prison officer at Larkhall Prison for his possible involvement in the hit and run accident where the life of Gerald Baker was sadly cut short. He is helping the police with their enquiries. This follows the acquittal of a former wing governor, Karen Betts as there was insufficient evidence on which to convict her."

John bellowed with contemptuous laughter at the craven media and the political establishment. His second though was to thank God Nikki and Helen are safe at last. He did wonder which judge would end up trying the man.

*************

"Say whaddoyouknow, Doc," Marino said, opening the letter that Kay passed to him which had been addressed to them both. It had landed on the front doormat of Kay Scarpetta's comfortable Virginia home. He reached for a beer that he knew he's find in her fridge. "George has done it again and busted some crook that works in one of their pens. They should turn the key on the slob and not let him out," declaimed Marino. He passionately hated anyone in the law and order field that turned criminal.

"They can't do what you want. They don't have Alcatraz there, for example."

"We don't neither. Say, why in hell did they close it down?"

Kay sighed. Even after the man's stay in England, not as much of his impressions had lingered as she had hoped. She was glad to receive letters from George from time to time. She had that traditional English belief in letter writing and could imagine the cool calm tones in which they were written. She was a little disappointed that George hadn't followed up her idea of working in the State of Virginia, as she knew they would make a good team. Kay knew she couldn't be selfish in such matters though. What did come over in her letters was how happy and content she was, that she had some purpose in her life. Kay envied George, as she knew that she had her own battles to face and her unpredictable niece Lucy to look after.

*****

Fenner stared with disbelief and horror at the grim walls of the remand cell and refused to believe that the cell door had clanged shut on him. This couldn't be happening. Wasn't it only a few days ago that he had strutted along the length of G wing, bellowing orders? Now he was banged up and he knew very well what he'd be charged with. He had been so certain that all that planted evidence was bound to nail Betts. He felt as if he had been castrated, all that brute strength drained from him. At this minute, he should be on his rounds and getting the lads to do their job and getting the prison running smoothly, just the way he liked it. All the hundred and one little details were second nature to him and he was removed from them. There wasn't anyone who he could use to pull strings to spring him out of here. He was sure that those two dyke bitches who arrested him were secretly laughing at him. He knew right away there wasn't a hope in hell of smooching them up a bit. Marilyn wasn't going to know, Grayling was secretly only too glad to be rid of him. He even thought of phoning Karen but he had no idea where she was living now. She's always helped him out before when he was down but he didn't think that even he could swing it that she'd come on side, could he? He shook the bars of his cell in despair while sweat ran down his forehead. He was in the depths of despair and there was nowhere out. 


	44. Chapter 44

**Scene Forty-Four**

"It's a shame we missed out jeering at Fenner through the prison bars or seeing him being dragged away screaming," Helen reflected in a regretful tone, as two or three newspapers lay scattered on the living room table. They had thought long and hard about the justice that had finally been visited on him but both of them also thought that it wasn't right to brood forever on their past. His evil spirit needed to be laid to rest somehow.

"That gives the bastard too much significance. His evil influence needs to be chucked into the dustbin of history…….," answered Nikki slowly, looking into space as she sought inspiration. Suddenly, her eyes lit up as she found the answer. "I know, I've got it. I know the best way of celebrating his downfall. What about getting all the women to see Tori Amos in concert? You know how I'm just mad about the 'Scarlett's Walk' album."

"Yeah, since you twisted Trisha's arm, she's had it played in the club pretty regularly," laughed Helen." If you find out how many want to go, I'll use my contacts to get the tickets."

*****

A month later on, the impossible event was actually happening as Nikki sat in the passenger seat of their Peugeot, hardly believing what was to happen. Better still, this was to be a communal experience as Trisha and Sally-Anne were in the back seat. Nikki was chattering away on the phone to Alice in George's car to coordinate their estimated time of arrival at the Hammersmith Apollo and because, well she was so excited. Helen drove on imperturbably as; after all, someone had to concentrate on serious business of driving. Trisha and Sally-Anne were intimately ensconced in the back seat, feeling comfortable as, for once; someone else was doing the organizing for their evening out. In the chilly winter weather, the darkness had closed down early and streetlights whisked past them.

"George is passing on a message to say, yes, she is as excited as everyone else but she's having to cope with bedlam going on around her. Karen and Beth give you their love," Alice's calm tones rolled over the network into Nikki's ear. In the background, she could hear Karen and Beth exuberantly calling out to them to affectionately emphasize the point. George was looking in the rear view mirror and smiled affectionately at the young lovers in the back seats and how Karen's fingers were sliding up the thigh length slit in Beth's red dress. The sight of that made her lovingly exchange glances with Alice who sat next to her.

The journey was only going to be a short one to the west end of London, pulling off the Hammersmith flyover and finding a place to park. Helen managed it adroitly and, miraculously and George didn't end up too far away. It was only natural as it fitted snugly into the conjunction of them and that the artistry they were going to experience was all going to come together.

The crowd of women clattered down the street, dressed to the nines, and they homed in on the crowds gathering outside the venue. They were in plenty of time and, somehow, an aura of calmness settled down on them all. To their surprise, there were quite a number of men around.

"I thought Tori Amos was sort of women's music," Trisha said, a note of surprise in her voice.

"It doesn't have to be. I can imagine someone like Paul Williams being quite a Tori fan on the quiet from what Nikki says of him," Helen answered Trisha.

"I can't see John being here somehow," George said in amused tones.

"He should be. Anyone with imagination can relate to her music," Helen persisted; another worldly, distracted expression on her face while the chilly winter air ruffled their hair. They mused on the fact that whatever choices or accidents of fate led them to something inspirational, it doesn't matter what road took you there, it's important that you've arrived. There was one thing for sure and that was that no typical macho man would ever come this way.

"Hey Tony," Nikki suddenly called out, waving her arm like mad." Great to see you."

She was surprised and pleased to see the normally conservatively dressed Tony wearing jeans and a casual jacket and dressing down a bit. He was talking to a woman next to him and looked more relaxed than he'd ever seemed.

"My girlfriend's brought me here. It's her idea."

"You've got good taste, Tony. As you can see, I'm out with the girls."

Presently, the crowds started to file into the huge hall and Tony and his girlfriend were lost to view. They finally came out into a huge auditorium that took their breath away. The purple, Art Deco auditorium was a stylist's delight and their eyes focused on the stage where two keyboard instruments were set up facing each other with an array of drums and amplifiers.

They listened with keen interest to the support act as a guy on solo guitar played haunting reverberating musical patterns that ran round each other, sometimes overtook each other as past overtook present events. It was a thoughtful musical bouquet for when the eight women resumed their seats halfway back and dead center.

Suddenly the lights were turned out and a sketch of a line drawing of a woman's face with leaves on lines of twigs instead of hair was projected onto the backcloth. "What a fascinating art statement," breathed Helen. Beth and Karen were overwhelmed by the experience while Alice sat back was open mouthed.

Suddenly, the unaccompanied sounds of a single voice came out of nowhere from out of the black, as a totally unexpected move like a jolt of electricity through the assembled crowd, stretching back to infinity. Surely this short song 'Wampum Prayer' was a highly original concert opener, as opposed to an up tempo massed guitars and drums intro to rev up the tempo at a standard concert as Sally Anne thought from her experience of such matters.

"That's so off the wall…and I love that about her," Alice mouthed.

At last, they could see Tori in front of them and up on high and center stage, wearing ethereal turquoise coloured robes as the other musicians took their place and they slid off into the first of the songs. The drums hammered away at human volume, the bass-lines curled round their solar plexus and the guitar player described intricate figures. "All of them mattered," Helen mouthed to herself but, as Trisha thought, you couldn't take your eyes off that slim shaped woman in profile whose long reddish slightly curled hair flowed backwards and whose voice and diction insinuated itself round their imaginations.

Helen blinked her eyes and the next she knew, Tori Amos had turned round and was playing the other set of keyboards without a break. She must be some kind of wonder musician. At first, they experienced the music as an ensemble experience of sounds that washed around them until the words crept out and into their imaginations, weaving in fragments of their own past, present and possibilities as well as the artist's. These spellbinding feelings lifted them each up on a magic carpet experience. This artist spoke intimately to each of them…and each of the audience out there in the darkness.

Sally Anne listened spell bound as the gentle lilting rhythms of the song instantly centred her.

'…..down New Mexico way, something about the open road

I knew that he was, looking for some Indian Blood

and, find a little in you find a little in me

we may be, on this road but, we're just

Impostors in this country you know……'

The music was pitched against the complexities and grabbed hold of her as she realised that, once, she had lived in an environment where she hadn't been at home- and hadn't she found out the hard way until she'd found her way home with Trisha? Sally loved the 'open road' feeling of the song and as she travelled on life's journey with Trisha, she was as happy as this song was.

The delicate piano notes caught George'**s** imaginations as she remembered playing on the piano in her father's house many years ago. She could feel the notes that were struck up and mouthed along with the words.

'….you caught me lingering in another girl'sparadise

the way she paints the world -- I want that in my life….'

"_Yes I do,"_ she vowed to herself and glanced sideways and fondly at Alice's profile as her lover was caught up in the music. The expression on Alice's face was rapt, possessed as she too got the message.

At one point in the performance, the other musicians left the stage and Tori addressed them for the first time that evening, saying that she ran into a girl who asked her to perform 'Desperado.' She confessed appealingly that she hadn't sung that song for a number of years but would give it a try. She struck up the flow of pure, unamplified piano notes and sweetly took flight into the song. Helen'sears tuned into the softly compassionate words.

'Desperado**,** why don't you come to your senses

come down from your fences,

open the gate it may be raining

but there's a rainbow above you

you better let somebody love you

before it's too late.'

Yes, she had once stayed on the fences and had resisted being loved for whatever reason but had realised this truth just in time. She squeezed Nikki's hand and transmitted her feelings through to her lover. The dark haired woman's soulful eyes looked back at her and knew what passed through Helen's mind.

All eight women gasped as the band struck up with a riff that rose and fell like an unending succession of waves of sound breaking in on them as Tori pushed that mesmeric repetition at them.

"I can look your God right in the eye," Nikki wept with pure emotion at that defiant insistence. Hadn't she been doing that all her life with everything and everyone she had confronted, she thought? The defiant rhythmic tones washed over Nikki, as she was entranced as Tori, intent over her keyboards, hammered her music home. The mysterious payoff line in 'Pancake**' **intrigued her**.**

Trisha pricked up her ears at the cool, jazzy sophistication of the next song flowed through her veins. The sharp rhythmic cracking sound of the drums, the cool bass lines and Tori's piano riffs appealed to her nature till the song's entreaty 'Don't make me come to Vegas' came to be her metaphor of not wanting to go where she is expected to go from her parent's wishes. The destination might be glittery but it wasn't for her.

'slip through your hand

again and again

slip through your hand

again and again.'

' Lady Luck is my mistress

and you'll have to play

second to her wish."

The mournful horn like sounds and lightly tapping rhythms warned Karen's psyche that Tori were going to sing her life as well. A surge of feelings started to well up in her as the sad voice started to sing.

"I never was the fantasy

of what you want

wanted me to be

don't judge me so harsh little girl

so you got a playboy mommy

but when you tell them my name

from here to Birmingham

I got a few friends………"

And hadn't she been a playboy mommy, with her various useless boyfriends while she was trying to hold down her job. She'd tried her best and how much guilt could she feel for her son Ross who was out there somewhere. A sharp feeling of loss pierced her through and through, knowing that he's chucked up his chances at university. He'd gone and sulked off somewhere even before she'd lost her job at Larkhall. It shocked her that she'd never thought of him during this recent time and only Tori's song recalled his presence. Yes, she had friends, she murmured to herself proudly as the tears streamed down her face that she'd never cried before until she had been set free all during her recent troubles. Beth looked at her with troubled eyes and put her arm round her shoulders. As the blond haired woman smiled with strange happiness through her tears, she snuggled sideways down on her lover's breasts and let soft arms enfold her.

'You'll cross that bridge all on their own

little girl, they'll do you no harm'

That line repeated over and over again came to mesmerize them all. A bridge promises to take them someplace else, to deliver them somewhere better in their lives. It's scary looking over that edge, knowing that they can fall and they live that challenge in their lives, just as it took them so much struggle to get to where they are now. Tori reassured them all in this song even though it mourns a loss. All eight women were at one in that point, the darkness around them didn't interfere while the light and sounds from the stage elevate them. This was a mystic moment that none of them can overlook or forget.

A sudden swirl of piano notes impossibly high in the air presaged the coming of the song that soon took on that doom-laden quality which they'd heard on the PA at Chix.

"I can't see New York

as I'm circling down

through white cloud

falling out, and

I know his lips are warm

but I can't seem

To find my way out---my way out.'

All the women were emotionally blown away but this song hit Beth and Aliceespecially hard as, translating 'his' for 'her', they had had that sense of desolation of a loss of a former lover for whatever reason until Karen and George had happened into their lives. It reminded them of how their partners mattered so much as they looked soulfully at them.

As the notes of the final song faded away into the distance, they were entranced to see Tori extend her arms forward at right angles to her body and her fingers fluttered in a manner that was curiously balletic and incredibly expressive.

"She is like no other performer. She is such an individualist. She doesn't tell you want to think but invites us to figure it out for ourselves. Whatever we are in life, she's further along that line," Nikki said dreamily, the light of inspiration in her eyes recognizing a kindred spirit she could relate to. "We absolutely must get her autograph."

"It's a nice idea but don't you think that a thousand other people have the same idea? We'll be here half the night. Just look at where we are in the hall," Trisha pointed out.

"You are such a party pooper. Can't you just go with the flow rather than being your usual cool as a cucumber self?" Nikki asked teasingly.

The house lights were switched on, showing the huge purple auditorium. Suddenly they realized how big the audience was. The concert had seemed so intimate and theirs only.

"No just being realistic. Besides, what would you say to her if you saw her?"

"Well……" Nikki started to stay, totally stuck for words, a foolish smile on her face. To Helen's amused eyes, her partner was the nearest she'd ever been to an adoring teenage fan, complete with autograph book." I could always say, loved your concert. Sounds corny but it's true."

"I have a solution. What say we all write to her as one letter? It'll mean more that way. All it matters is that she receives some of the spirit back that she's given us. We shouldn't necessarily expect a reply as if we're teenage pop fans as she's busy, for God's sake. It matters that we have faith that she's read it," broke in George the peacemaker.

All of them looked at the faraway look in the blond woman's eyes. She was a million miles away from the woman in wig and gown that forensically exchanged legal arguments with the dignity of her profession and fought her battles yet she was still George. So were they all themselves when they thought about it.

This evening had taken them so far away from their normal selves yet these were their songs of their returning, they thought as that magic permeated through this winter night, as they shuffled out into the cold, outside the concert hall and ready for their trip home.


	45. Chapter 45

**Scene Forty-Five**

"We're home again, sweetheart," sang out Helen to Nikki as they walked up the steps to the flat's front door and Helen turned her key in the lock. It was something that both of them had said many times before. They felt gloriously shattered and mentally spaced out. They strewed their clothes on the bedroom floor and flopped into bed. They lay there silently as the dim light played on their features. The morning was such a long time ago and their minds were still running full blast. Both of them knew that it would be a long time before they would sleep.

"That was an absolutely fantastic concert."

"I couldn't even begin to express it," sighed Nikki. "It's almost too intense for words."

"Better think about finding them though. George is totally serious about her idea. She won't let you forget," grinned Helen.

"I know…….I'll get it together……"

Nikki fell silent, as the music had stirred up such a flood of feelings and memories through her overactive mind, flitting from one topic to another.

"…….I was thinking to myself…..can you remember that time we kissed and held hands in the arts room at Larkhall?" Nikki asked in tentative tones later on as her head lay on the pillow and her hand lay on Helen's breasts.

"Do I not?" exclaimed Helen in resounding terms with a broad smile on her face.

"I remember every word of that conversation. Picturing you in that black top and remembering the way we kissed kept me warm inside on far too many cold lonely nights in that cell of mine. I remember telling you that one before," Nikki said dreamily.

"A hundred times I'm sure," Helen answered while Nikki smiled that satisfied smile of security in the arms of her true love.

"Can you remember me saying that I wanted kids some day," murmured Helen.

'Yeah. We've talked about it from time to time only we keep on being distracted."

"And how do you mean, distracted."

"We have a nice calm mellow time of it, only something happens and we end up rescuing a damsel in distress."

"Karen a damsel?" laughed Helen, looking very attractive to Nikki. "She'd be insulted. She's as tough as old boots and a not so closet feminist as well."

"I suppose you're right but to get back to your question, there's one problem," Nikki continued thoughtfully with a straight face.

"And what's that?" Helen asked with a sharp look on her face.

"I can't make you pregnant or is there something I'm missing," Nikki grinned cheekily. "I might have asked this question before."

Helen exploded in laughter and looked in vain for a spare pillow to swat Nikki in the face with for mischievously winding her up. Instead she thought she would counter with sweet reason and feminine wiles.

"You get on very well with your parents these days and it's possible they'd support us," Helen pursued. Nikki sighed as her tired mind struggled to give the idea a fair hearing. There was a whole déjà vu feeling about this conversation.

"Yeah, my dad. My very unpredictable, conservative father who you never know when he'll come up with some marvellous flight of insight and understanding just to say 'aha, fooled you. I'm ahead of you,'" Nikki replied in affectionately ironic tones. "Yeah, he might just like the idea. Perhaps, we should be open to new ideas."

Nikki ran her fingers lovingly down Helen's smooth curving flanks. She knew every inch of her shapely curves just as Helen's fingers could trace the same for her. Equally important for them, their shared intimacy of thought made them psychically inextricable.

"There's only one problem about having a child, mystically significant though it is," Nikki said softly into Helen's ear while she planted kisses on the smaller woman's cheeks,"………and that is what about our sex life?"

"Aha," Helen grinned as her fingers slowly caressed Nikki's left nipple," I wonder when you would get onto that subject."

'Well, you know how much it means to us," Nikki said in coaxing terms while she pressed herself against Helen. "One of the delightful thought on my mind when I finish work is that we can make love whenever and wherever we want to."

"We don't have sex every night, babes. Enough of your euphemisms," Helen retorted pertly, as her fingers slowly travelled inch by inch down Nikki's stomach.

"Well, yes, if you want to put it that way," admitted Nikki as she started to tingle inside and sensual desire started to rise up within her." I know what point you're making right now."

"I don't beat about the bush. You know that by now," Helen said sensually as her fingers reached down to the center of her desires.

"Oh yes, yes, yes. Keep trying to convince me," gasped Nikki as she felt Helen's expert pressure on her.

"I'll make you sign a binding agreement if you put it that way," Helen said in her best sultry tones as she pressed herself up against Nikki and leaned over, her full breasts in view.

"You're so unfair," complained Nikki as delicious shivers rose in her." You've got me at a hopeless disadvantage. I can't argue with you………..I mean what would we do if we were like this and our baby started crying out for, I don't know, because something upset her? Are we capable of being that unselfish to break off from our climaxes? You have to think of things like that."

"Very good, Ms Wade." Helen smiled, admiring the way her lover swung her own form of persuasion back onto herself." I really don't know the answer. I mean how do straight couples manage?"

"I suspect very badly."

"Where there's a will, there's a way."

"I tell you what. I have the answer," Nikki gabbled at rapid pace as Helen expertly brought her up to a climax." Let's check out at Chix if there are any mothers who go there. They can't all be either singles or couples. We research this properly and take it a stage at a time and work out what we'd be letting ourselves in for. There are all sorts of possibilities….."

Nikki's voice rose in pitch and intensity until her voice finally rose to a heartfelt wail. Her body felt as if it were uncontrollable, like a train at express speed threatening to hurtle off the track as she approached orgasm.

"…..Meanwhile, please... stop tormenting me with this discussion. I can't stand it."

A smile of pleasure spread across Helen's face as she considered Nikki's inspiration. She leaned over her lover and she kissed Nikki's cheek and sought out her mouth, which opened wide for her tongue to reach deep inside her. Her fingers bore down on the taller woman whose cries of ecstasy and the rapid movements of her body told Helen that she was right on the mark in both senses.

"You are the biggest tease in the world, babes," Nikki said hoarsely as her lungs were heaving to gulp in much needed oxygen." It's my turn to pleasure you. Never mind the time of night as I'm in the mood."

She looked up at the strong jaw line, the full lips, the straight determined nose of her lover, and her incredible jewel like grey green eyes all framed by her somehow perfect bob of mid brown hair. The roundness of her body as it hung protectively over her was like bliss. She loved the feel of her lover's body resting against hers. She smiled to herself as she figured out that the very forceful yet loving Ms Stewart relished nothing else than a challenge and knew for certain that she was with her every inch of the way and always would be. She waited eagerly for her lover to move so that she could taste of her sweetness. Whatever pleasures she wanted with Helen would assuredly come and, yes, she started to think that any offspring of their love would be pretty amazing. It was all part of their future and their wide assortment of dear friends would be queuing up to be godparents.

She smiled to herself as she figured out that Helen relished nothing else than a challenge and knew for certain that she was with her every inch of the way and always would be.


End file.
